Soulhunters
by Dalara
Summary: Deadly Soulhunter on the loose. Obi-Wan between the worlds. Appearance of devil a.k.a. Woland. Obi/Qui. Complete.mething more dangerous and complicated. I'm not too good at summaries, but give it a chance. COMPLETED
1. Chapter 1

Title: Soulhunters

Author: Jedi-Nifet

Summary: The seemingly routine mission, Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon and one of the Padawans are sent onto, turns out to be much more dangerous than originally anticipated. 

Big thanks to my beta-reader Aunecah_Skywalker :)

// denotes speaking through the Force

_italics_ denotes personal thoughts

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Jedi Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi was so engrossed in his studies that he didn't notice his Master coming into their shared quarters at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. For a moment the Master just stood there, watching his 18-year-old Padawan fondly. The boy was crouched on a couch, his eyes fixed on a datapad in his hands, his braid dangling from behind his right ear. It was constantly falling onto the screen and the boy unconsciously brushed it away once in a while. A little smile crept onto the Master's face. Obi-Wan huffed in irritation and scrolled a few pages back. Qui-Gon decided it was time to make his presence known. 

"Padawan." 

At the sound of his Master's voice Obi-Wan raised his head, startled, but quickly recovered and looked at the older man questionably. 

"The Council wishes to see us," Qui-Gon continued, seeing that he had his Padawan's full attention. 

The boy put his datapad aside looking like he was glad to get away from it for a while, then got up and followed his Master out of the room. 

"Do you think they will send us on a mission?" Obi-Wan asked on their way to the Council Chamber. 

The last time they had had a mission two months ago. It ended, as usual, in the Healer's Ward. It amazed everyone how this pair always managed to end up there. Rumors and jokes about their 'love' to the Healer's Ward traveled around the Temple, which was on this account no different from any other closed community. But now both Master and his Padawan were ready to go back into the field. 

"This is most probable." Qui-Gon knew that his Padawan was bored from staying at the Temple. Besides all of his friends were away on missions. 

With that they came to the doors of the Council Chamber. The girl at the reception desk nodded to them, letting them know they could enter, and they proceeded inside the Council Chamber. 

Obi-Wan always felt a bit nervous and excited at once walking through these doors before the mission. There were already two persons standing in the middle of the circle room: Master Ka'Niel and his Padawan Kamon Turnell. Master Ka'Niel was a revered Jedi, wide known for his fighting skills. He was rumored to be one of the best. The yellow twi'lek turned his head to the newcomers and slightly inclined it in greeting. Padawan Turnell - a human boy about Obi-Wan's age with black hair and dark brown, almost black, eyes - also turned his head. The Padawans – being old friends – exchanged glances in greeting behind their Masters' backs. 

//Don't loose your focus, Padawan,// Obi-Wan heard through his bond with Qui-Gon and once again wondered if his Master had eyes on the back of his head. 

//Yes, Master,// was the Padawan's obedient reply. 

"A mission for you we have" Yoda started. His green sleepy eyes slowly opened to regard each Master/Padawan team in turn. 

"There is a trade dispute on planet Allura. They asked for Jedi as mediators," Mace Windu continued. "Master Jinn and Padawan Kenobi are assigned to this mission. Padawan Turnell will also accompany you." 

No one was surprised at this - Qui-Gon Jinn was a renowned negotiator, one of the best in the Order. Any Padawan would be glad to learn from such a Master. Needless to say that Padawan Turnell was overjoyed, which earned him a reprimand from his Master through their bond. 

"All the information you'll need is in your datapads. Your transport leaves in two hours. May the Force be with you" Windu finished. 

Qui-Gon bowed to the Council, turned and left the chamber. Both Padawans followed suit. Ka'Niel stayed where his was apparently for the further briefing. 

As soon as they were out of the hearing range of the Council Padawans almost jumped in excitement. They haven't seen each other for almost half a year and had much to discuss. The boys were about to start a brisk talk when they heard Qui-Gon's stern voice: 

"Come, Padawan. We have packing to do. I believe Padawan Turnell has some business of his own to take care of." The Master;s voice sounded stern, but inside he still remembered himself being this young. "Besides you'll have nine hours to talk abroad the ship," he added in a warmer voice. 

"See you later, then" Obi-Wan said to his friend and rushed to catch up to his Master who already started to walk to their quarters with his usual fast pace. 

********************* 

Two hours later the three Jedi arrived at the docking bay of the Temple. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan stood at the ship's ramp waiting for Kamon to join them. To their right, Master Ka'Niel was giving him some last instructions. Finally, when his mentor finished his instructions, Kamon gave him an affectionate hug, then turned and walked over to the two waiting for him. 

"Are you ready?" Qui-Gon asked. 

"Yes, Master Jinn." 

"Good. We can inform the pilot that he may take off. Padawan, would you please do that?" 

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan replied obediently. 

He disappeared into the cockpit while Qui-Gon and Kamon strapped themselves in their seats. When Obi-Wan returned a little while later and strapped himself in his seat the ship took off. It zipped past the traffic of Coruscant and out of the planet's atmosphere. Few minutes later, when the ship jumped into hyperspace, the stars on the black cover of the sky turned from shining dots to burning streaks. 

******************* 

As soon as the ship entered hyperspace the Jedi started to review the upcoming mission. It seemed to be a simple one with no danger looming over the horizon. But Obi-Wan couldn't get rid of a nagging feeling in the back of his mind. At first he wanted to tell his Master. But… he knew perfectly well what will come next: the lecture about keeping his focus on the moment. Through the years, he became tired of it. Besides the feeling wasn't connected to their mission; and, frankly speaking, it was rather faint. It wasn't his usual "bad feeling", just something unsettling. So instead of telling anyone about it he pushed it into the farthest corner of his mind. 

******************* 

At last the boys were left on their own. Qui-Gon retired to a separate room for meditation. 

"So what shall we do now?" Kamon asked, looking around for any clue of a good occupation. They had at least four more hours to entertain themselves. 

"What about taking a closer look at the ship?" - Obi-Wan winked at him. 

"You do remember what happened the last time we took that 'closer look', don't you?" asked the other Padawan with mock seriousness. 

"Of course I do" - laughed Obi-Wan. - "It doesn't happen every day that pilots forbid us to come close to their ship ever again." 

"And I heard this very ship will take us back from this mission. What would we do if he orders us out of his ship and forbids to return?" asked Kamon half worriedly and half jokingly.

"We will not touch anything," said Obi-Wan dismissively. "Just take a look. I've never seen engines of this type" - Obi-Wan's eyes were bright with anticipation. 

"Oh no. That gleam in your eyes means nothing good." said Kamon, but he was  
as excited as Obi-Wan was.  
  


They quietly slipped past the room Qui-Gon was in and headed down to the engine room.

******************* 

It was hour and a half before landing. Everything was quiet. That was exactly what worried Qui-Gon. So he decided to go check on his two charges. He walked over to the room they stayed in and peeked inside. The mystery of the unnatural silence was solved: the boys weren't there. 

_Where could they have gone, _wondered the Jedi Master. He wasn't looking forward to searching high and low for two wayward apprentices that managed to get lost (at least from his point of view) in a relatively small ship. 

"I had my hands full with one Padawan" - mumbled Qui-Gon under his breath. - "Very nice of the Council to give me a second one on this mission" Letting the Force guide him he descended into the engine's room. The hole in the wall devoid of any light drew his attention. 

"Obi-Wan, are you in there?" - asked Qui-Gon looking down into the black hole. 

"Yes, Master" - came the muffled voice of his Padawan. 

"What are you doing in there?" 

"Nothing, Master" 

"And where's Padawan Turnell?" 

"He's here with me" 

"What is he doing?" 

"Helping me, Master" 

Qui-Gon couldn't keep the smile from spreading on his face. He also hoped that the ship wouldn't fall apart. 

"You both stop doing your nothing and come out here" 

"Yes, Master" 

The two boys got out of the hole, one by one. Qui-Gon couldn't help but laugh at their sight. They looked at each other, confused, and then laughed, too. Both were covered in grime from head to toe. 

"Go clean yourselves" - said Qui-Gon finally catching his breath. - "We are to land in an hour" 

**************** 


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you for the reviews :) 

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The ship has come from hyperspace and was approaching its destination quickly. The three Jedi gathered at the viewport watching as the planet loomed before them. The system had two suns. One of them was a large yellow star. The other was smaller and rotated around the first. The planet always stayed in between them. Both suns illuminated it from the opposite directions. 

The planet's surface combined different colors: mostly brownish gray - the cities - but there were also blue spots of seas and small dots of greenery. The planet was heavily urbanized. There was little of wild nature left. Clouds covered both of planets' poles. They were so thick that prevented an observer from getting any idea of what lay beneath them. 

The ship started to descend and as it did so one of the brown-gray spots started to grow. Soon the Jedi could see that it was a huge city, which expanded as they were getting closer and finally consumed the horizon. The city was not unlike Coruscant, but it could not compete with the capital of the Republic neither in its size, nor in its volume of traffic. 

The ship zipped past the lines of traffic and landed on the docking platform of one of the buildings. The ramp lowered and the Jedi stepped outside. 

Two people were waiting for them. A man about forty had a heavy complexion. His face looked like it was used to wear a smile, but at the moment it was lined with concern and worry. His gray eyes looked at the Jedi with hope that didn't go unnoticed. 

Beside him stood a young woman. She appeared to be no more than twenty five years old. She bore some resemblance to the man next to her, perhaps, they were relatives. What impressed Obi-Wan most of all about her were her eyes. They were blue like sky above their heads. The irises were larger than normal and it looked like they occupied the largest part of her eyes. Her gaze was intense but not unpleasant. And it held hope, too. The Jedi neared them and bowed. 

"Welcome, honored Jedi," the man spoke. "I am Tarnos Imata, representative of the High House Imata on this dispute. This is my niece Namira Tolla Imata. She is also a representative of our House," He motioned to his companion. She inclined her head politely. 

"I am Qui-Gon Jinn. This is my Padawan learner Obi-Wan Kenobi and this is Padawan Kamon Turnell. We will be glad to be of service," Qui-Gon replied. 

"I suggest you rest after your journey. Follow me, please." Tarnos Imata turned and headed to the doors at the end of the platform. Jedi and his niece on his heals. "It is almost night," he continued. "The briefing will start tomorrow morning." 

Obi-Wan looked at the sky confused. Then he exchanged glances with Kamon. The other Padawan was as confused as he was. The sun was just starting to set. There was no expecting of darkness falling any time soon. 

They entered the building and proceeded few stories up. 

"Representatives of the High House Arones will arrive tomorrow," Imata explained as they walked up the stairs. Namira has kept quiet all the while. At last they stopped. "I must leave you now," Imata said, looking at them almost apologetically. "My niece will show you to your rooms." With that he left. 

"This way, please," Namira spoke up for the first time. 

They followed her and soon stopped once again in a hall. The three doors lined up one wall. The other one had large windows all over it. 

Namira showed each Jedi his room. They were furnished and decorated in the same style. Each had a common room, a bedroom and a 'fresher. The decoration of the rooms was intricate, but not intrusive, made in blue-white gamma. The furniture was made of wood which was rare on the planet due to disappearing of forests. Only rich people could afford to have wooden furniture. All three rooms were connected by a large balcony that gave a spectacular view upon the city below. 

"If you need anything, press the yellow button on the comm unit. The servant will answer your call. If you wish to talk to me or my uncle, press the blue button," Namira explained. 

"Thank you, miss Imata," Qui-Gon replied. 

****************** 

After Namira had left the Jedi gathered in Qui-Gon's room to review the general information on this mission once again. 

"There were three largest Houses that imported metals," Kamon started. "But five months ago one of the houses stopped its business and passed its segment of market to its former rivals." 

"That left the High House Imata and the High House Arones," Obi-Wan continued. "They started to argue on who will control that segment. But in five months they didn't reach an agreement." 

"Not quite." Qui-Gon corrected him. "They reached an overall agreement. But Imata refused to sign the treaty without the third party being present." 

"This is what we do: watch as treaty is signed and make sure everyone plays fair." Kamon stated. 

"I don't understand, then," Obi-Wan put in. "If they had reached the agreement and the matter is only in signing it, why did both representatives hold such hope? It was evident in their eyes." 

"Good point, Padawan. But I suppose we'll have to make it clear tomorrow. Now I suggest you go and take some sleep." Qui-Gon said. 

Taking the dismissal for what it was the boys left for their respected rooms. 

***************** 

It wasn't too late yet. In fact it was just 11:00 p.m. But the Jedi had already retired. They tried to get as much sleep as possible on their missions because they knew full well that they might not get more in some time. Obi-Wan was twisting in his bed restlessly, trying to fall asleep. To no avail. Finally realizing that all his efforts were futile he got up. Dressing, he looked grimly out the window and was greeted by the sun still pretty high in the sky. 

  
_How am I supposed to sleep when the sun is shining that bright? There are no curtains either_. He sighed and walked to the window. He knew that the sun was not the only reason he couldn't sleep. Rather, it was that unsettling feeling. Try as he might, he couldn't get rid of it. It pushed its way back to the front of his mind insistently. It refused to be stuffed away and forgotten. 

  
He sighed again, lowering himself onto the windowsill, drew his knees to his chest and put his chin on them. He stared at the city outside, not really seeing anything. Frustration crept over him. That vague feeling of trouble was gnawing at him, not letting him rest. 

  
He could tell Qui-Gon but what would that accomplish? He will no doubt receive yet another reminder to be aware of here and now. He could stand that, but what will he say?  
  
"Master, I have a bad feeling..." Obi-Wan laughed bitterly at how hollow and incoherent it sounded. Even to himself. 

  
If only he could figure out what this feeling meant. But no, it stayed just out of his grasp. Taunting him from a safe place almost within his reach... Almost but not quite.  
  
Maybe he should tell Qui-Gon anyway? Just to put some of the burden onto another's shoulders. But Obi-Wan was never the one to do this. If a burden was placed on his shoulders he would carry it as long as needed. 

Obi-Wan was reluctant to tell Qui-Gon about the feeling because he was certain it would go unheeded. The Master never took his Padawan's words seriously, though the warnings proved to be useful more than once. Qui-Gon preferred to look it as an unnecessary distraction. 

  
Obi-Wan knew that he could trust his Master with his life; he did, almost on every mission. But feelings. They were completely another matter. Could he trust a man he saw as his father, his mentor and friend with his feelings? This question unsettled Obi-Wan even more. He knew that distrust between Master and Padawan could lead to dire consequences. 

  
Perhaps, he didn't need to voice his worries. He could simply use the bond to let Qui-Gon see what he is feeling. But to do that he'll need to separate the feeling. To make it strong enough for Qui-Gon to grasp. And how was he going to do it if he couldn't grasp it himself? 

  
He wished Yoda were here. The little Jedi Master always helped him with sorting out his feelings. This time Obi-Wan will have to deal with it on his own.  
  
He seated himself in a meditation posture and let his thoughts slip away. He let the peace wash over him, feeling the Force envelope him in a warm embrace. Feeling himself centered, he reached for that illusive feeling. Nope. It struck its tongue at him. He wanted to jump up in frustration but forced himself to sit still.  
  
This time he started from distance. Carefully he reached his awareness towards the feeling of restlessness. Grasped it. Then moved to its reason. It was almost in his grasp… when the door chime ringed. He ignored it desperately trying to stay focused. But the person at the door wasn't going to give up.  
  
With a growl, Obi-Wan pulled himself out of his meditation. He scrambled onto his feet and went to the door. He pushed the door open.  
  
"What are you doing here?" he blurted out , surprised.  
  
********************  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer and such are in the first chapter.

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Obi-Wan pushed the door open. 

"What are you doing here?" he blurted out, surprised. 

"I am sorry", Namira said. "Did I wake you?" 

Obi-Wan was hard pressed to not snap at her. He took a deep breath and released his anger at her untimely intrusion into the Force. 

"No, you didn't." _What in the Force could bring her here at this hour?_ Obi-Wan wondered. "Come in, please." 

She smiled shyly and walked inside. He motioned for her to sit, and she sat onto the couch. He sat on a chair across from her and looked at her expectantly, trying hard to not let his irritation show on his face. Surely there was a reason for her to come. 

"I-I just needed to talk to someone," she started uncertainly. 

He looked at her more closely. Her nervousness was evident on her face. 

"Well, you can talk to me. What's bothering you?" 

She fidgeted with her sleeve. "I am scared," she confessed. 

"Why?" It looked like he was about to learn the reason for the Jedi presence here. 

"Something bad is going on. I don't know what." 

"I see." He was disappointed. This simply was his day to be close yet not get what he wanted. 

"And it scares me. I wasn't supposed to be on this dispute, you know, but my father insisted on my presence. And now uncle Tarnos is hiding something from me. He is afraid, I can see. But he doesn't tell me what it is." 

"Maybe you can guess what it could be." Obi-Wan switched in his investigation mode. 

"I think he is afraid of Arones, of what they could do." 

"Is it the reason for us to be here?" Perhaps he'll get the answer he wanted nevertheless. 

"I don't know for sure. Uncle Tarnos didn't tell me that either. I'm sorry." She looked at him apologetically. 

"Don't be, it's not your fault." He was about to add something else, but never got a chance to do so. 

"Am I interrupting something?" The head, which undoubtedly belonged to Kamon, dived into the room from the balcony. The rest of him followed in suit. Obi-Wan looked at the other's disheveled countenance and thought: _This is the one who has no trouble sleeping. _

"Has someone died?" Kamon asked mockingly, looking at their grim faces. 

"Not yet," Obi-Wan replied, feeling the tension begin to dissipate. "But you might earn the privilege to be the first." 

Namira's gaze wandered from one boy to the other. Then a tiny smile appeared on her full lips. Obi-Wan was suddenly grateful that Kamon chose that moment to drop by. Kamon could make almost anyone laugh. 

Soon the tension was all but forgotten. Kamon was telling dozens of jokes and Obi-Wan couldn't help but wonder where the other Padawan got them all from. 

"A Master and a Padawan walk along the streets of Coruscant, talking about the Force. The Master is telling his Padawan that it is possible to affect weak-minded with the Force. He says— 

"I'll show you the example. See that balcony? A man will throw out a holovid." 

And stared pointedly at the balcony. A man came and threw out a comm unit. The Master was surprised and looked once again. A man came and threw out a protocol droid. Then he pleaded to the Master, 

"I don't have a holovid! I don't!" 

Kamon's only answer was the thunderous laughter. 

****************** 

The briefing started the next day. It was being held in a large hall situated on the top floor of the same building representatives and Jedi had stayed at. The never-setting sun cast its rays through the high glass ceiling making the thought of artificial illumination of the hall sound ridiculous. The center of the hall was occupied by a large round table. Representatives of the arguing parties took their places so that the head representatives faced each other, separated only by the table. Their numerous assistants scurried around them, carrying different items and creating that vanity which tires the observer. In the middle of this chaos the two men sat staring at each other across the table. They both were heavy-built. But, while Imata was the light-skinned blond with gray eyes his counterpart had tanned skin and hazel eyes. Their expressions matched as though someone had placed a mirror instead of one of the men. 

The Jedi had been the first to arrive and now sat at their side of the table quietly observing. They picked their position so that to be able to see both parties and not to seem to side with any of them. They carefully kept the image of independent and calm observers. 

Obi-Wan took mental notes while watching. _Tarnos Imata is nervous. He's afraid but tries to hide it under heavy scrutiny of his opponent. Arones is self-assured, thinks he has nothing to worry about. I wonder what makes him this confident? _

//I guess we will have to find it out on our own, my Padawan. For it doesn't look like he's going to enlighten us on the matter. // Qui-Gon commented. He already had the pleasure to hear Namira's story this morning. It was retold to him after Qui-Gon had asked what was it so funny his Padawan found in his room in the middle of the night. For the deafening laughter was really hard to ignore. 

//But how are we supposed to find it out if all we do is sit here and watch them burn each other with their stares?// Obi-Wan was tired of sitting like this, surrounded by dozens of assistants rushing about and making too much noise. Though all the Jedi sat close to each other they could not converse in all this bustle. In order to do so they would have to shout over the noise. 

//Patience, Obi-Wan. Watch him closely, perhaps he'll betray himself. Pay attention to his every move, even the slightest.// 

_I know one person that will pay a very close attention to one of the representatives._ Thought Obi-Wan mischievously, glancing at Kamon who indeed kept his gaze, and apparently his thoughts, on a certain young woman. This act, however, didn't seem to be one-sided. Namira, too, kept throwing glances his way. 

Obi-Wan nudged the other Padawan to get his attention. Kamon tore his gaze from Namira reluctantly and turned to Obi-Wan. For a few seconds he tried to say something but it was impossible to hear anything over the noise. At last he abandoned his attempts to make himself heard and resorted to the bond he and Obi-Wan shared as friends for a long time. 

//What's the matter?// he asked, letting his annoyance seep through the bond. 

//Oh, it's nothing. It just seems that you forgot that there are other representatives of House Imata, as well as Arones, present.// Obi-Wan sent a mental smirk along with this. 

//I thought while you are keeping your intense gaze on Arones and Master Jinn keeps his attention on both Arones and Imata I should look after Namira in case something happens. Otherwise she stays unprotected. We can't let something happen to her either, can we?// Kamon was not to be thrown off balance so easily. 

Something made Obi-Wan turn his head and look at the door across the hall. His gaze fell upon the woman who had just entered the hall, and he froze, mesmerized. For she was more than beautiful. Her tall slim figure was stressed by a black business-suit she wore. Her chestnut with red streaks hair were held up in a tight bun. Her gray-green eyes swept over the entire room. Then her gaze returned to the Jedi and lingered on them for a moment longer. Obi-Wan felt something akin to electroshock go through him. Her gaze shifted to Arones as she approached him. 

Obi-Wan followed her with his eyes. Though she stood close to the man he was supposed to watch after, she was the only one the young Padawan could see. He was startled out of his near trance by the mental voice of his Master. 

//Did you see that?// Qui-Gon's voice was measured as though he was asking if Obi-Wan had a good-night sleep. 

//Umm… See what, Master?// the Padawan hoped his blush was not too evident. 

//Obi-Wan, were you paying attention at all?// the Master's voice became stern but stayed calm. Obi-Wan gave his mentor a sidelong glance but Qui-Gon wasn't looking at him. 

//I-I saw that woman enter and…// he realized how stupid of him was to let himself be distracted like that. //I'm sorry, Master.// 

//We'll discuss it after the briefing.// 

Obi-Wan sighed and returned to watching over Arones. He noticed that the nameless woman now sat next to Arones and was talking to him rather animatedly. The young Padawan was charmed by the way sunlight reflected from her hair, how it made her smooth skin glow… With an effort Obi-Wan remembered where he was and what he was supposed to do instead of staring and drooling over an unknown woman. He forcefully drag his gaze from her onto her neighbour. The man seemed to be listening to her intently. Perhaps she was his advisor. 

Fortunately all this absurdity soon was over. The assistants and employees stopped rushing about and took their places. The noise gradually died away. The briefing began. 

******************* 


	4. Chapter 4

See the first part for notes. 

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Finally the briefing was over. It had lasted for seven hours and now everyone was virtually drained to near death. At first the conversation was flowing slowly. The two sides tested each other, probed if the other was ready to concede. Then the heat raised. In the blink of an eye the two head representatives were shouting at each other like dealers in a market. Their assistants were not far behind. Soon the hall was far more noisy than it had been before the briefing. Everyone tried to prove their point to their opponent. No one was listening to anyone, only themselves. It all came to such an extent that Qui-Gon had to interfere. He managed to settle the overexcited people enough for something resembling a dialogue to resume. Through the course of the briefing occasional disputes peaked in the heat but never to the extent of the first one. And in seven hours these people could not reach the agreement. The ending was as quiet as the beginning had been because no one had any more energy left for arguing. Only Tarnos Imata and Surten Arones seemed to still have some energy. But even they have limited their confrontation to angry and stubborn stares. At last the end to the meeting was called. Both parties gathered their papers and filed out. The Jedi were the last to leave. 

Throughout the meeting Obi-Wan kept his eyes firmly set on Surten Arones. And occasionally his gaze would shift onto the woman next to him. It was unfair for the Padawan that this woman had to sit so close to the object of his supervision. If there was anything in Arones' behaviour that could give away the reason for his confidence it slipped past the Padawan's intense scrutiny. Obi-Wan honestly tried to follow all the loops and rotations of the conversation but to his displeasure he had lost it entirely after the second hour. All Obi-Wan managed to get from this briefing was considerable headache. Though it seemed he wasn't the only one. Kamon didn't look like he got more from the briefing than Obi-Wan did. 

And now Obi-Wan's Master wanted to know why his Padawan had been gaping at the woman instead of doing his job. Obi-Wan followed the Master into the common room of Qui-Gon's quarters. There he fell bonelessly onto the couch refusing even a thought of getting up to enter his mind. Qui-Gon took two cups of tea from a tray delivered by a droid and strode to his chair, giving one of the cups to Obi-Wan as he passed him. The young man sat upright, internally steeling himself for an upcoming conversation. He knew Qui-Gon was not overly pleased with his behaviour. And he knew that the Master was tired, too, though it took someone who knew him closely to notice it. 

"Padawan," Qui-Gon started, his expression neutral. "You were distracted by that woman. It is not very becoming of a Jedi. You must remember that you are on a mission." 

"I'm sorry, Master. I shouldn't have let her distract me this way." Obi-Wan lowered his gaze and stared into his cup, suddenly finding it very interesting. 

"It's all right. But make sure it doesn't happen again. I suggest you meditate on this," Qui-Gon looked at the boy. He could see his Padawan's embarrassment. 

"Umm, Master, I need to tell you something…" 

"Yes, I'm listening," Qui-Gon watched his apprentice closely. Did the boy have this famous bad feeling of his again, he wondered. Obi-Wan still kept his gaze down. 

"I have a strange feeling. It concerns me but I don't know what it means." 

_ Just as I thought. Qui-Gon sighed inwardly. He wished he were on Coruscant so that he could relax in his favourite chair with a cup of hot fragrant tea. With an effort he forced himself to return from his wishful thinking to the matter at hand. _This one never stops worrying about the future. And never keeps his thoughts on what is going on in the present. _ "Obi-Wan, I think you are worrying about nothing. It possibly only means that you take everything too seriously. You need to relax. Looks like this mission will be long and boring. So do go out and have some fun." _

Obi-Wan looked up at that, surprised. He saw a little grin tugging at the corners of his Master's mouth and a raised eyebrow, hinting that he better not try his luck. As he had thought Qui-Gon dismissed his concerns. 

"But, Master," Obi-Wan tried to argue. "This might be important. It…" 

Qui-Gon rarely interrupted his Padawan, but at the moment he was too tired to listen to any reasons the apprentice could think out to justify his concerns. "Obi-Wan, you are giving too large meaning to it," he said in a stern tone, hinting that he was not up to arguing at the moment. 

Obi-Wan broke off in the middle of a word and looked at his Master. He saw that anything he could say would not reach the older man now. There was no point to argue any more. The only option was to concede and do as he was told. 

******************* 

Obi-Wan shuffled out of Qui-Gon's apartment, upset and disappointed. Though somewhere deep in his mind he knew it would happen this way it still hurt. Why couldn't Qui-Gon listen to him just once? What if it proved to be dangerous? 

Obi-Wan gloomily looked out the large mullioned windows that overtook the wall to his right. Through them he saw a glorious crescent of the sun slowly making its descent down into the abyss of night and casting scarlet rays into the darkening skies. After Coruscant, Allura's air-traffic seemed somehow abysmal. Occasionally hovercrafts and air taxis flew so close to the widows that one could see their passengers. Had this been sometime else, or had he been someone else, he would have immensely enjoyed the breathtaking view. But this wasn't sometime else. And he wasn't somebody else. He was Obi-Wan. 

Being thus completely occupied, Obi-Wan totally forgot to look where he was going. The whimsical lady called 'fate' didn't fail to prove his Master's point of keeping one's focus on the here and now: Obi-Wan bumped into someone. He raised his head, startled out of his gloomy thoughts to look at the happy face of a fellow Padawan. 

"Hey, Obi! What are you doing here looking like a player in a casino that has just lost his last credit?" 

"I-umm…" Obi-Wan tried to think of something to reply withbut Kamon didn't wait for explanations of any sort. 

"Come to a club with us. You seem to be in a desperate need of a good time out." Kamon virtually dragged the other Padawan along. 

"Us? I don't see anyone else, unless you are walking around with a ghost," Obi-Wan quipped sarcastically. But his sarcasm fell on deaf ears. 

"Namira's waiting for me at that club. Now she's waiting for _us _, only she doesn't know about it yet. There's no way I will let you walk around with a face like that. You'll scare all those representatives and they will run off like a herd of banthas. You want to catch them after that? I rather not." Kamon kept speaking all the way down to the landing pad where an air taxi was waiting for them. Obi-Wan didn't have a chance to put in a single word. He could only listen and smile at what the other said. Kamon definitely knew how to lighten someone's mood. 

The air taxis here were almost the same as the ones on Coruscant. Their air taxi glided lazily along the line of traffic,** making its way towards its destination. Where its destination was left unknown to Obi-Wan. He leaned against the back of his seat,absent-mindedly listening to Kamon's babbling next to him. Thoughts of Qui-Gon's dismissal returned to plague him. He couldn't forget the casualty with which the Master told him to go out, the indifference on Qui-Gon's face. The sense of foreboding, that very same feeling he couldn't grasp, suddenly surfaced as well. Obi-Wan straightened abruptly and started looking around, trying to determine the source of it. But he saw only the blue sky, the flying traffic, and the tall buildings they passed. There was no other warning from the Force either. **

Shaking his head in disappointment, he leaned back in his seat again. Kamon looked at him worriedly but had no time to say anything. For the air taxi slipped out of the line and stopped at a platform. The two Padawans got out of it and, having paid for the ride, started towards a door. A neon sign above the door proclaimed this establishment to be a club with a strange name, 'Lakucha Iva'. 

The club itself looked like a two-storied round building, situated on the roof of another, also round, building. The roof was bordered with the line of blinking neon arc's of different colour. To both sides of the entrance there was a parking lot, enclosed in the neon fence. Obi-Wan thought that this club would definitely benefit if there was any dark time on this planet. At the moment the parking lot was only half-filled. Two twi'lek's were arguing loudly, standing on different sides of an odd-shaped bright-orange vehicle. They paid no attention to the two padawans. The third twi'lek came out of the club and the two arguing immediately calmed down. The three of them got into their vehicle, whatever it was, and took off. 

"What could it mean?" Obi-Wan wondered aloud, staring at the name. Kamon just shrugged, obviously uninterested, and proceeded inside. They found themselves in a large room, though the real size of it was pretty hard to determine. The dim illumination of the room created a special fictitious atmosphere. The dark walls seemed to lead into infinity. Slightly aromatic smoke was emerging from some devices hidden in the walls. It covered the floor masking it completely and dissipated away as it rose higher. People on a dance-floor seemed to hover over the floor rather than dancing on it. 

Out of habit, Obi-Wan scanned the room with his eyes, unconsciously looking for a hidden threat. The room had an improper shape, all curves and corners at unexpected places. There was a stage, illuminated with neon – W_hat a surprise Obi-Wan thought sarcastically – where a band of humanoids was playing, dance-floor and many hexagon-shaped tables scattered around the club. Different aliens were drinking whatever it was they considered alcoholic. Obi-Wan didn't have time for a more detailed observation because Kamon was already dragging him to the table Namira was at. She had started to wave at them as soon as she saw them. _

"Hello, guys," she said to them as soon as they were in a hearing range. "What took you so long to get here, Kamon? Glad you decided to join us, Obi-Wan," she added to him. As soon as the boys got themselves seated at the table she started to talk. 

_ She's just like Kamon, can talk for hours all by herself,_ thought Obi-Wan in displeasure, leaving all attempts to put in a word. He resorted to watching and listening, wondering how they will fare together. Their conversation sounded more like a competition in oratorical art than a friendly talk. 

A waiter materialized at their table, seemingly** out of thin air. He looked like a hybrid between a human and an insect. He put a small disk before each of the table's occupants. He touched each disk in the middle and a holographic menu jumped out. It was operated by passing one's hands over the disk. The two talking closed their mouths for awhile to study the menu. Namira, being native, orientated easily in it and made her order quickly. The two boys were not so quick and she ended up helping them to make an order because some of the menu items had names no less strange than the name of the club itself. After making an order the two returned to their heated discussion. **

Obi-Wan just shook his head. How could people be like this? He honestly tried to follow their conversation for some time. But soon it started to remind him vividly of the briefing earlier that day. He was grateful that at least they kept their voices down. It would have been too much if the whole place could listen to them. The waiter returned with their order. The colour of Obi-Wan's drink oddly resembled the colour of his lightsaber. Namira and Kamon barely took notice of their order being brought. 

Feeling himself left-out and desolate Obi-Wan sipped his drink and let his gaze drift around the room. His survey came to an abrupt stop when his gaze fell upon one of the tables across the room. 

There was… SHE… 

********************* 


	5. Chapter 5

See the first part for notes.

-----------------------------------------

She was sitting in the club – an attractive woman – alone. Yes, she knew how attractive she was. She had looks of a goddess and most fell for it from the first glance. Not many knew that she also had the killer instincts of a shark. She was a huntress. Her looks served her as a bait. But sometimes all those filthy eager eyes made her sick. 

Right now she was tired of men weaving around her like a swarm of flies. She didn't want them. She wished they could all just lie down and die, here and now, for her amusement. But they wouldn't. They would just stare, burning her with those stares, trying to get her attention. The dim light of the club served little to hide those stares. Or, preferably, hide her from them. She looked them all over again lazily. _Boring. No real men, just some scum. It was not that the club was some kind of a brothel. It was that all of the men here were of no interest to her. _

The image of a boy at the meeting came unbidden to her mind. But that image was pleasurable, it made a smile appear on her face. Or rather it was a predatory grin. _Those eyes – deep like a sea eyes of a wonderful colour. In the sunlight they played like pure emerald. Framed with long soft eyelashes – any girl would envy them. Soft curves of his face. He must have a tender skin… _ She smiled again, this time wistfully. 

A man approached her, perhaps enchanted by her smile. _Like moth flying on fire._ He was obviously nervous and desperately trying to hide it under bravado. He constantly pulled the edges of his clothes as if trying to straighten them. With a faked ease he plopped down on a chair next to her. Se examined him: black tousled hair, short beard, oily eyes. He was on the verge of drinking too much. 

"Hello, beauty," he purred, slurring the words. 

_Just what I need!_ she thought sarcastically and glared at him coldly. But it didn't confuse the man. 

"What is a nice girl like you doing here all alone?" he asked looking at her greedily. He threw a quick glance back at his friends at the other table. _Maybe they have a bet of some kind?_ she thought, noticing his glance. She was curious at what kind of bet they had. And she made an adamant decision to make this man fail. He was so disgusting. 

"So, pretty, what's your name?" 

"Not your business," she replied firmly. 

"We're angry, aren't we?" he said with a poisonous smile and grabbed her wrist. "You will go with me to my table and we'll have a nice talk," he added winking at her and pulling her out of her chair. Well, trying to. 

She turned out to be stronger, to his utter amazement. Standing up, she pried his hand off and squeezed it until she saw pain in his eyes. She let go of him and he rushed away in confusion and fear. She then slowly lowered herself back into her chair. Her thoughts returned to the Jedi-boy who was a complete opposite from that foul vermin. Her mind immediately cleared from irritation and a wistful smile returned to her face. 

_ A boy – no, a young man – a Jedi. So pretty. How can a Jedi – A JEDI! – be so pretty? _And not only his looks, but his soul was magnificent, too: so pure, so filled with light and life! The light of his soul shone in his eyes. She had heard many tales about Jedi in her life. Some of them were obviously concocted. Like ones about Jedi eating babies. But nowhere it was said that Jedi could be so sweet. 

She also had heard they were hard to seduce. She will have to check this one. The only real problem was to get rid of an older Jedi for awhile. He definitely was not wanted here. 

_This place would be perfect. The smoke, appropriate music… The only problem is to get the little Jedi here._

At this thought her gaze stopped, frozen at the sight of those very same stormy eyes looking straight at her. The problem was solved – the boy WAS here. 

********************** 

Obi-Wan was brought out of his reverie by, strangely enough, silence. No, it was not like the whole club fell silent. It was just that he got so used to the constant hum of his friends' voices in the background that he felt uncomfortable when they broke off. He reluctantly tore his gaze from HER and fixed his eyes on his friends, who stared back at him. 

"What?!" he asked more annoyed than he would like to admit. 

Namira giggled. 

"You were staring at that woman for ten minutes in a row. You could easily win a contest," Kamon answered with mock annoyance. But his smile betrayed his amusement. 

"What contest?" Obi-Wan asked, perplexed. 

Namira giggled louder. 

"A staring contest." 

Namira leaned to Kamon and whispered something into his ear. As she spoke his smile grew wider. Obi-Wan felt himself at the center of some conspiracy. 

"So, Obi, you like her, huh?" Kamon asked with a sly smile. 

"What if I do?" Obi-Wan answered with a question, challenge evident in his voice. 

"If you like her so much, invite her here," the other Padawan suggested. 

"No," Obi-Wan refused, turning bright red. "I…" 

"Then I will do it." Kamon waved his hand at the woman. 

SHE threw a curious glance their way, which Obi-Wan didn't mind at all, but unfortunately SHE wasn't the only one noticing Kamon's hand. People at the adjacent tables turned to look at him. A couple of young calamarian women giggled, putting their hands over their mouths in an identical gesture – they probably were sisters. One man shook his head like a man who sees a mentally diseased person or a wayward child. 

"Are you crazy?!" Obi-Wan hissed, grasping Kamon's hand and pinning it down. When he was sure Kamon wouldn't play this trick again Obi-Wan released his hand, throwing him an exasperated glare. 

"All right," Kamon conceded, crossing his hands over his chest in annoyance. "Have it your way." 

"You're a Jedi," Namira interjected in a tone that implied that the Jedi were the bravest, the smartest and all other things. "So go ask her for a dance." 

Obi-Wan threw her a glare but internally he started to waver. Silence followed while he tried to decide what he should do. On one hand he was a Jedi and it meant he had to keep neutrality; but on the other hand what could possibly be so awful if he danced with her? 

He threw her a wary look – in case she was watching him: in a dim light, surrounded by smoke slowly licking at her feet – she seemed to be a ghost of an unearthly beauty, a nymph that came from clouds. She held her glass in one hand with an inexpressibly elegant gesture, the other hand under her chin – her gaze on the band yet so far away. He suddenly became curious in what wonderland could she be now… 

_BUT_ the word mercilessly broke into his mind _She is a representative of a party on this Force-forsaken meeting, I shouldn't become friends with her. _Or more than friends – a thought blinked. 

_But this way you could learn more about her, and Arones as well, _another voice said in his head – this voice he used to count as his own, too. _Besides Qui-Gon told you to go out – read: have fun! _

_I can't… _

_Yes, you can. Or are you too shy? _the voice mocked. 

_What am I doing sitting here talking to myself? _Obi-Wan wondered. 

"Are you going to sit here all day or will you ask her for a dance already?" Namira asked in sullen voice and pictured a pout on her face. This was too much – the three of them, including that voice in his head, finally got to him. 

"OK, I will do it." _Hope I'm not getting myself into anything. Obi-Wan stood up, gave his friends one last glare and headed towards HER, nervously trying to straighten his tunic as he went, hoping his face wasn't too red. _

****************** 

"Would you like to dance?" 

She raised her eyes - misty-green in the subdued illumination of the club - to look at him. He thought that they were the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. She nodded mutely in acceptance; few stray locks of hair fell on her forehead and she brushed them away with a swift yet graceful move. Then she rose - her dress flowing around her in a cascade of dark-green silk - and took the hand he offered. 

He led her to the dance-floor, his heart dancing, his mind not believing in such luck. She followed him without a word until they stopped. Cloudy smoke and slow music drowned them in their sweet delusion. She put her hands on his shoulders and he wearily, somewhat hesitantly, wrapped his arms around her, as if he were afraid she would disappear. They started to sway, obeying the fluctuating rhythm of music. He took an unsteady breath when he felt her stroking his neck tenderly. 

"Relax," she said, smiling up at him, her eyes sparkling with humor. And something else that he couldn't quite read - desire? Admiration? "I don't bite. Not here anyway." 

He smiled and relaxed a little, still self-conscious. 

"So tell me your name, o handsome stranger," she murmured. Her mellow voice enveloped him, penetrating his very soul. 

"Obi-Wan Kenobi. And may I have a pleasure to know your name, my beautiful lady?" he replied, matching her tone. 

"Anisa Tontri," she whispered, her lips so close to his ear that he could feel her hot and moist breath. 

The delusion was complete - it cradled him, took the reality away, the magic sound of music and feeling of woman in his arms made up his universe, and he drifted away with them. He felt her soft lips on his cheek, then on his lips. The sharp wail of the Force's warning made him jerk. She looked at him, surprised, questions lurking in the depth of her eyes. 

"I… umm… Sorry." Words seemed to abandon his mind, he blushed - embarrassed. 

The song ended and Obi-Wan led Anisa back to her table. He helped her sit down and was going to walk away but she still held his hand, forcing him softly - yet persistently - to sit down next to her. The waiter materialized at the table - half human, half insect - he looked so much like the previous one that Obi-Wan couldn't discern was it the same one or not. The waiter put menus before them but Anisa shook her head and said in the tone of an expert: 

"Bring us Anadorian wine." 

"I don't think I should…" Obi-Wan tried to protest but she cut him off. 

"You must taste it. It's very rare," she said. "And it will do you no harm," she added with a smile. 

"This is the point, lady, this wine is **very** rare," the waiter chattered. "You've already had pretty much of it. We don't serve it so much." 

"I'm paying for it," she snapped out and glared at him coldly. 

The waiter bowed slightly - offended and somewhat disgusted look on his face, telling how of much he was tired of whimsy clients - and hurried away to bring the order. 

"Anthropomorphic insectoid," she muttered angrily, not quite under her breath. 

"Why are you swearing like this?" Obi-Wan asked, partly out of curiosity, partly to lighten the mood. 

"I'm not swearing," the glint of laughter returned to her eyes. "I just named what he is." 

Obi-Wan just shook his head at this. The waiter returned with two glasses of wine on a tray. He carefully put them before Anisa and Obi-Wan and hurried away. The young Jedi took his glass and examined its contents: the wine had a deep-red - almost crimson - colour, its astringent scent pleasantly tickled his nostrils. He noticed Anisa watch him and became confused. She brought her glass up and said: 

"For you." 

They sipped their wine. It had rich taste, reminding of vast sunlit fields. Though Jedi didn't drink much - only on some official banquets or something of this sort - Obi-Wan was able to understand that it indeed was very special wine, and it was rightfully expensive. 

Though the spell of their dance was all but gone, Obi-Wan was very aware of the young woman's hot body next to him. The wine coursed through his system in a warm tide making him feel relaxed and slightly dizzy. Her lips were enticing him, promising sweetness and pleasure. He wanted so much to kiss her! But something was holding him back. 

What should he do? He bit his lip in frustration and glanced at his friends on the other side of the club, but they offered no solution or support - they were engaged in an intense argument. _If this building collapsed they probably wouldn't notice it, _Obi-Wan thought wryly. His gaze returned to Anisa's face. She was looking at him expectantly. He was being torn apart by his own wishes, and he despised himself for not being able to make a decision. To distract himself from these thoughts, he started to listen attentively to the new song the band was now playing. A young man, dressed in black, was singing: 

"You can always trust your inner feelings 

'cause they always tell the truth 

Where did it get you, then your analyzing 

Just do what feels right for you 

If you take life as a crazy gamble 

Throw your dice take your chance 

You will see it from the different angle 

And you too can join the dance 

Make it real not fantasy 

Fantasy 

Make it real not fantasy 

Fantasy oooh yeah 

Did you ever have a secret yearning 

Don't you know it could come true 

Now's the time to set wheels turning 

To open up your life for you 

As you know there's always good and evil 

Make your choice don't be blind 

Open up your mind and don't be trivial 

There's a whole new world to find 

Make it real not fantasy 

Fantasy 

Make it real not fantasy 

Fantasy oooh yeah 

Did you ever have a secret yearning 

Don't you know it could come true 

Now's the time to set wheels turning 

To open up your life for you 

If you take life as a crazy gamble 

Throw your dice take your chance 

You will see if from a different angle 

And you too will join the dance 

Make it real not fantasy 

Fantasy 

Make it real not fantasy 

Fantasy…" 

The song suddenly seemed to be some kind of a sign for him. 'Take what this woman offers,' it told him. _What the heck! _he thought. _I have a beautiful woman next to me and what am I doing? Sitting debating with myself whether I should kiss her or not. Don't be a fool, Kenobi. Take your chance._

As if on cue, she leaned closer to him. Their lips met - hesitantly at first - the kiss deepened, became passionate. 

The warning flared in the Force, an alarm went off in Obi-Wan's mind. But he didn't care for it anymore. 

Nothing in the universe mattered anymore. 

******************* 

The song up there belongs to The Scorpions and is called "Make It Real"


	6. Chapter 6

Thank you for the review, Jessica :)

---------------------------------------------------------

Qui-Gon woke with a start and sat up on a couch he managed to drowse off on. Something woke him up abruptly, alerted him of impending danger. But where was danger? He looked around the room: blue-white walls, elegant furniture, large window on the wall farthest from him. The sight that greeted him from the window was the same as before: tall buildings – the mass of brown and gray was disturbed here and there by bright spots of signs; straight lines of traffic lined the pale-blue sky. Everything was ordinary, no threat anywhere. Qui-Gon released the hilt of his lightsaber he didn't even know he was gripping tightly and slumped back against the couch. He was sure the warning from the Force had woken him – but why was it warning him? There was no immediate threat. Unless… 

Qui-Gon reached out for his bond with Obi-Wan only to find it tightly shielded from Obi-Wan's side. Why in the universe would the Padawan do it? He never blocked his side of the bond so completely; neither of them did, especially during a mission. Concern and confusion grew in the Jedi Master, flavoured with just slightest hint of irritation. What could happen to Obi-Wan to make him shut the bond? 

Unable to reach the apprentice through the bond Qui-Gon decided to check on him through the Force – to find his location, then go and talk to him personally. He searched the Force for the bright light that was his Padawan's signature and breathed a sigh of relief when he finally found that signature – Obi-Wan was alive and unharmed. But something in signature made Qui-Gon frown – it was somewhat frizzled and twisted, something imperceptible amiss in it. He tried to locate the young man but there were too many people between them, their Force-signatures disturbing the Force – like reed swinging in the wind disturbs water – making the task to hone in on Obi-Wan's location impossible. Worried and lost as to what to do the Jedi Master rose and started to pace the room impatiently. Apparently, it helped: an idea dawned upon him: 

_Comlink! Of course!_ Qui-Gon picked his comlink and punched in Obi-Wan's code. He heard a signal and waited, his fingers unconsciously fidgeting with the small device. Someone answered it. 

"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon ventured, careful to not let his anxiety seep into his voice. 

To his utter bewilderment, the link was immediately shut off. Qui-Gon stared at it in disbelief, his worry, confusion and irritation increasing ten-folds – Obi-Wan never did such a thing, he would never cut off transmission like that. Putting the useless comlink onto the table, Jedi Master simply stared into space, emotions raging, getting the better of him. Then with an effort, he brought them under control. Once again, he took the comlink and this time called Kamon. The boy answered almost immediately. 

"Padawan Turnell, where are you and Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon inquired sternly. 

"We are on our way back, Master Jinn." The Padawan didn't seem concerned, as much as comlink transmission allowed to pick up on someone's emotions. It soothed Qui-Gon's worries a bit, but something inside him kept telling him that something was irreparably wrong. 

Qui-Gon turned his comlink off and rubbed his forehead asking himself again and again: _What could happen to Obi-Wan? _

_***************** _

Qui-Gon's nervous wait was interrupted by a light knock at the door. 

"Come in," he called and in a moment two padawans were standing in front of him. 

He looked closely at Obi-Wan, afraid to find out that something was wrong, but saw no indication of any injury or anything that could explain the boy's strange – unthinkable! – behaviour. He was relieved to see Obi-Wan unharmed but it also brought his irritation up a few notches. He shifted his gaze to Kamon, noting that there was nothing wrong with him either. 

"You may go to your room, Padawan Turnell," Qui-Gon said somewhat coldly. "Obi-Wan and I need to talk." 

Kamon bowed politely and disappeared, leaving the Master and the apprentice alone. Qui-Gon showed no emotions, his face stone, maintaining the calm façade of a Jedi Master. On the inside, however, emotions were boiling. Obi-Wan watched him carefully, feeling of apprehension rising inside him. Any outside observer would have thought that Qui-Gon was as serene as ever, but Obi-Wan knew better – in his years of training under the Jedi Master he came to know him good enough to be able to see through the façade. 

"Why did you turn off your comlink?" Qui-Gon finally asked, carefully keeping his voice neutral. 

"Master?" Obi-Wan was clearly confused. 

"I called you and instead of answering me you turned off your comlink," Qui-Gon elaborated, his patience wearing thin. 

"But you didn't call me." The Padawan didn't know what to think about his Master's sudden accusation. Was something wrong with Qui-Gon? 

This was too much. The emotions that were boiling inside Qui-Gon broke out, crashed the carefully erected façade. And then Qui-Gon made a mistake people often make when they are worried too much – he yelled: 

"Why are you lying to me?!" 

Obi-Wan backed away from him, scared. His eyes went wide. There were not many who could face angry Qui-Gon without fear. And Obi-Wan wasn't one of them, not in such situation. Qui-Gon's tall frame towered over the boy – intimidating, frightening. The Padawan made few steps back until he ran against the door. Not really thinking he quickly opened the door and slipped outside. 

Qui-Gon stared at the door Obi-Wan vanished through in disbelieve. _What have I done? _he thought desperately. He wanted to go after Obi-Wan, comfort him, ask for forgiveness… 

But when he was ready to open the door, his hand froze centimeters from it. _I can't go to him right now. It would probably do more harm than good. _ With that thought Qui-Gon walked back to the couch and sat onto it wearily. All the emotions that have been boiling inside him moments before died away, leaving just weariness and shame on their wake. What kind of Master was he to let emotions get the better of him like that? Such thoughts plagued him, drowning him deeper and deeper in black depth of self-admonishing and self-pity. 

On the fiftieth level of the same building two bothans, aids of Arones, were walking down the corridor, talking. 

"…I've got a record of it," one of them was saying. 

"That's great, but how can we use it?" the other replied thoughtfully. 

Their conversation was inconsiderately interrupted when Obi-Wan, making few hasty steps from Qui-Gon's door to the door to his room, ran straight into these two. He didn't see them because uninvited tears were blurring his vision. Muttering some apology he squeezed past two bothans to get to his door. He heard their talk, though it never registered with him. Entering his room, he quickly shut the door closed behind him. For a second he just stood there unmoving, then he slid to the floor and buried his face in his shaking hands. 

***************** 

Obi-Wan didn't know how long had been sitting like this: hands covering his face, sitting on the floor before the door leading from the corridor to the common room of his apartment. He wasn't really crying, wasn't going to let himself cry because of some misunderstanding… Deep down he knew that it wasn't that simple, but he refused to acknowledge what he knew, refused to understand that something was much more seriously wrong here. Finally, after what could have been ten minutes or two hours, he got up, went to the couch and slumped wearily onto it. 

His mind felt numb, as if someone ripped his brain out and replaced it with jelly. Did he drink too much alcohol? 

His heart came to an abrupt halt; then it plunged down. He couldn't remember! The last thing he could recollect of the club was the kiss he shared with Anisa… Or did it really happen? Obi-Wan wondered. It was already blurry. After the kiss he could recall nothing. His memory, trained to store every little detail and provide it readily if the need arose, provided only blankness now. Nothing! The realization made him cold and dizzy. Obi-Wan stared at the room in front of him in horror, not seeing the room itself. 

He knew he wasn't drunk. A bit, maybe, but not to the extent of losing his memory. So, there was nothing wrong with Qui-Gon, the problem was in him. 

"What's wrong with me?" Obi-Wan asked aloud, perhaps addressing the Force. But the Force remained ominously silent. 

The young man sighed and rubbed his eyes. They stung. In the corner of his eye he caught some movement at the door to his bedroom but when he looked straight at it there was nothing. He got up and walked there to see if there was someone. Nobody. He was alone in the apartment. 

But as soon as he sat back onto the couch he heard a noise that suspiciously resembled that of careful steps. He was on his feet in an instant. He checked the apartment all over again, searched every corner. And again he found nothing. It was starting to get on his nerves. He couldn't shake off the feeling that someone was watching him, lurking in the shadows. 

After another search with the same results, Obi-Wan sat onto the couch yet again, this time alert and waiting for the mysterious person to reappear. And again a shadow blinked just on the verge of his vision. Obi-Wan quickly turned towards it but there was no one. Panic seized him. Was someone watching him? Or was he imagining things? 

No, this will not do. He was a Jedi Padawan. He wasn't supposed to panic. Bringing all his will into it, Obi-Wan forced himself to calm down and remain that way. 

_I need to stay focused_ , he thought compulsively. _It will do me no good if I lapse into an uncontrolled panic. There's nothing to worry about. It's just my imagination. I am tired and I am simply imagining things… _he tried to reassure himself. 

Suddenly someone touched his shoulder. Obi-Wan whirled around, bringing his lightsaber against the intruder… and almost cutting Kamon in two with it. 

"Hey, watch it!" Kamon cried, jumping away from the blue blade that was humming dangerously close to his neck. 

"Oh, sorry." Obi-Wan turned red with embarrassment and quickly switched off his lightsaber. "You shouldn't sneak up on me like that." 

"What's wrong with you?" the other Padawan asked, looking at Obi-Wan intently, the lingering traces of shock still in his eyes, though a small smile appeared on his face as he talked. "It's not a proper time - much less a proper place - for lightsaber training, you know." 

"Guess not," Obi-Wan replied, smiling faintly. 

Obi-Wan's comlink suddenly buzzed, making Obi-Wan jump a little. Silently berating his nerves that got out of order as of late, he answered the call. 

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon's voice rang in the quiet room. "Is Padawan Turnell with you?" 

"Yes, Master." The boys exchanged glances. It was too late for any meeting to begin. Why would Qui-Gon want them both? 

"The representatives have requested our presence in the conference room. Immediately. Meet me at my door." The comlink went off. 

"We can say good-bye to this night's rest," Kamon said, walking to the door. 

"What could get to them? Do they ever sleep?" Obi-Wan wondered, following his friend out. He suddenly found out that he was glad he didn't have to stay alone in his room anymore. 

*********************** 


	7. Chapter 7

Well, **Cerasi5**, thank you for the feedback :) Here's the next part.

~*~*~*~*~

All the way down to conference room the three Jedi kept silent. Kamon occasionally sent Obi-Wan worried glances but didn't say anything. From their looks it seemed that only Kamon was worried. Qui-Gon seemed to be intent on getting to the conference room as soon as possible. In truth, neither Qui-Gon nor Obi-Wan knew how to address the issue between them. Besides, there was no time for it now.

When they arrived, the two representatives of arguing parties were pacing the conference room nervously, doing their best to avoid running into each other. Their aids fussed around them, creating an unnecessary vanity. Anisa was here too, standing close to Surten Arones, her hands crossed over her chest, her _expression unreadable. Obi-Wan felt a little chill run up his spine at the sight of her; it wasn't an unpleasant sensation, though. Namira was also present. She tried to talk to her uncle, perhaps to calm him down, but he wasn't listening. As soon as the Jedi entered all the faces turned to them.

"I propose we all sit down and you tell us what is the reason for this urgent meeting," Qui-Gon said in an official tone. Everyone complied, seating themselves in a large circle. 

"We have received notes with threats," Arones said, glancing at Imata who nodded in confirmation. 

"May we see these notes?" Qui-Gon prodded, looking expectantly from one of them to the other.

"Yes, of course." Both Arones and Imata gave small pieces of durasheet to their aids who in turn gave them to the Jedi. Qui-Gon furrowed his brow at this but didn't comment. He studied the notes for a moment then passed them to the Padawans. 

The notes were identical. Both contained demands to leave 'Cratu Center' alone. Otherwise authors of the notes threatened to kill both Imata and Arones. 

"What is Cratu Center?" Qui-Gon asked the two representatives of High Houses that were quietly sitting across from him. 

"It is an association of few cities with many metallurgic factories in it," Imata answered, looking at Qui-Gon like he has asked the obvious. The Jedi Master met his eyes squarely, unwavering. 

"Some time ago a group of people gathered there. They declared that they didn't need any High House ruling them," Arones continued. "They are just a gang," he added with disgust. Imata nodded to show he shared this opinion, his lips curling down in revulsion.

"It is very fortunate that you are here now," Imata said in such a tone that Obi-Wan wished he were somewhere else. "We heard that Jedi often act as protectors. We, of course, have bodyguards but we would like the Jedi guard us as well."

"All right," Qui-Gon said. "We will guard you this night. I will guard Mr. Arones. My Padawan and Padawan Turnell will guard Mr. and Miss Imata. We will discuss our further steps tomorrow," he continued, his tone leaving no space for arguing.

"Very well then," Arones said, standing up. "We will retire for the night. Do you know where my apartment is, Master Jinn?"

Qui-Gon nodded, and Arones walked out of the room, his staff close on his heels. Imata stood up and went away as well, his aides rushing after him.

*****************

"May I talk to you?" Namira asked the three Jedi as soon as they exited into the corridor, her blue eyes looking at them pleadingly. 

"Of course," Qui-Gon said softly, looking at the girl kindly. Obi-Wan wondered, not for the first time, why it was that Qui-Gon could be so kind and understanding with strangers, yet so strict, at times even harsh with his own Padawan. 

Namira led them to a small room. Apparently it was meant for rest and relaxation - it had plush armchair, a low comfortable sofa, and a plant in every corner - but Namira's troubled expression told that she was anything but relaxed. She sat down into the cozy-looking armchair and motioned for the Jedi to sit on the sofa across from her. She shifted her eyes from one face to another, studying each one in silence, then leaned closer to them and started to speak in the hushed and wary tone.

"I want to tell you something about my uncle. It might sound childish but he is not a good man." She crossed her hands on her lap, trying to keep her fingers from twitching nervously. She hesitated, as though not sure if she could tell such things to the Jedi. "Not that he killed someone or something like this, no… It's that he loves only money. He doesn't care for anyone, except himself. Not even for his closest relatives." Namira smiled a humorless smile. "If he knew that he could make good money from selling his wife - he would."

The two Padawans stared at her in disbelief. She must be exaggerating. It just can't be. 

"Yes, he is like this. Once, when he and my father were children, uncle Tarnos had sold him as a slave. He did it because he wanted a new hoverboard and their parents refused to buy it for him."

Both Padawans were shocked by the horrible story. They just couldn't imagine a person - much less a child - selling his own brother to get a new toy. The Jedi didn't have families: not most of them anyway, but it only made them all one large extended family. There were cases when one Jedi resented another, but what Imata had done was incomprehensible. 

"And how did your father return?" Kamon asked, still shaken by what they had just learned. 

"Their parents learned what had happened from my father's friend and they were forced to buy my father back." Namira was fighting tears that threatened were threatening to spill when she recalled the look on her father's face when he told her this story. 

"I'm sorry that you have to live with such person," Qui-Gon said compassionately, his tone soothing. "But why are you telling us all this?"

"I just wanted you to know who he is so that you were more careful when dealing with him - no one knows what he can do," Namira answered, straightening slightly. Her face looked like she had been hiding an awful secret and now finally shared it, lifting a burden from her soul. 

******************

Cold. Why was it so cold here? Obi-Wan stood up from the couch and took a few steps across the large common room that was connecting bedrooms of Tarnos Imata and his niece. He and Kamon were supposed to guard the two the whole night. Kamon stopped reading his datapad and looked up at the fellow Padawan.

"What is it?" he asked seeing the troubled expression on Obi-Wan's face.

"Nothing. It's just cold here," Obi-Wan replied, trying to suppress a shudder. 

"Cold?" Kamon raised an eyebrow at his friend's statement. "I don't feel cold. If anything, it's pretty warm here."

"I'll make some tea. Would you like a cup?" _Maybe the tea will make this blasted cold go away._  Obi-Wan thought, making his way to a small kitchen. 

"Yes, please," Kamon called then returned to his reading.

Shivering from cold, Obi-Wan boiled some water and started making tea, almost dropping the teapot in the process: his hands were shaking.  _What's wrong with me? _ he wondered. He didn't feel so cold normally, only when he was very ill. He touched his forehead, expecting it to emanate heat, but found it to be rather cool. So, he wasn't ill, was he?

The tea was ready. Putting two cups on a tray Obi-Wan returned to the room he and Kamon stayed this night.  _Guarding the rightful sleep of two very frightened representatives,_  Obi-Wan thought sarcastically. 

Obi-Wan took his cup and set onto the couch next to the other Padawan, turning to face him. He sipped his tea and delighted in pleasurable warmth as the hot liquid streamed down his throat.

"Kamon." The boy stopped reading and raised his head. 

"Oh, thank you." He picked his cup and was about to go back to his datapad when Obi-Wan's question stopped him.

"What happened in the club?" Obi-Wan's voice was quiet and unsure as if he was still debating whether he should ask the question or not.

"What do you mean?" Kamon was confused by the sudden question.

"I mean when I… when we… when Anisa and I kissed. What happened after that?" He could feel embarrassment colouring his cheeks bright red, but he needed to know the answer.

"And you don't remember? Kamon was incredulous. "You better not drink so much next time," he teased.

"I wasn't drunk," Obi-Wan protested.

"Then she had made you drunk," Kamon snickered. 

"Just tell me what happened," Obi-Wan said firmly, annoyed.

"Okay, you and she danced a bit, then sat at the table, talking, I guess. Then Master Jinn called me and we all went back." The Padawan studied his counterpart intently, waiting for a reaction. Obi-Wan was staring at the wall trying to pull out the disappeared pieces of his memory. But nothing was coming forth, only black void.

Not getting any reaction from Obi-Wan, who seemed to be lost in his thoughts, Kamon shrugged and returned to his reading. Silence reigned the rest of the night.

******************


	8. Chapter 8

Thank you, **Liyanette**. **Cerasi5**, you want to know what's wrong with Obi-Wan? You'll know soon ;-)

---------------------------

Morning finally came, and everyone went to breakfast. They ate in a dining-hall - a large room, adorned with white columns, high ceiling and huge windows made the room seem to even larger - along with representatives and their staff. The arrangement of the tables provided room for private conversations. The Jedi chose their place so that to be able to watch everything in the dining-hall. More importantly, they could keep an eye on both representatives' tables. 

Obi-Wan had been nudging food on his plate for what seemed an hour. He couldn't understand what was wrong with him. He ate yet he felt no taste. Everything was tasteless, stale. He would have thought it was because the food was bad if Kamon hadn't expressed his excitement about it being tasty. Obi-Wan raised his head and looked around. Everything was ordinary, but something seemed to be amiss - something in the colours. They were dull, lifeless, like on poorly made hologram or old holovids. Obi-Wan shook his head in vain attempt to bring back the vivid colours he was used to seeing. He blinked a few times but nothing seemed to help.  _Perhaps I'm just tired,_  he reasoned. And to speak truth, he  _was _ tired. The sleepless night didn't help things. He felt like he hadn't slept for at least a week. He didn't even realize that he had started to walk down a very dangerous path. 

Surten Arones sat at the table to the right from the Jedi, quietly conversing with one of his aids. Anisa, Obi-Wan noticed, was late. As was Tarnos Imata. Namira, however, was here and the Padawan could tell she felt very uncomfortable at her table - to the left from the Jedi - surrounded by her uncle's aids. Occasionally she threw nervous glances to Kamon who, in turn, used all the mimics his face was capable of to reassure her. 

Anisa stepped into the dining-hall and all eyes immediately turned to her. She looked like she had spent the whole morning in front of her mirror, which she probably had. She was magnificent. Obi-Wan felt his breath catch in his throat at the sight. Even her black business suit didn't spoil the impression - on contrary it seemed to emphasize her beauty. Pale, slightly tanned skin was shaded by silky mass of her chestnut hair. Seeing the admiration in his eyes she gave him a warm glance and half-smile in the corner of her mouth. She strode towards Arones' table and gracefully lowered herself into the chair to the left from him. The man abruptly cut his conversation with his aide and turned to Anisa. 

During the whole breakfast Tarnos Imata still didn't make an appearance. Worry and relief warred on Namira's face - worry that something could have happened to him (no matter how horrible a man he was he still was her uncle) and relief that he wasn't there to talk about money as he always did.

*****************

The breakfast was over, but Tarnos Imata had yet to make an appearance. One by one people - human or otherwise - filed out of the dining-hall to start their morning routine. Qui-Gon went to intercept Arones resolute to not leaving him unguarded. The Jedi had left all the representatives alone before breakfast to let them get prepared for the day. From now on the Jedi will be once again constantly guarding their respective wards. 

Both Padawans joined Namira as she was about to exit the hall. They had made just a few steps in the corridor when one of Imata's aides came rushing their way. The blond woman was seemingly hardly aware of where she was going as she plunged headlong down the corridor. There was no way she could get past the three on such speed - she bumped into them almost knocking Namira over. The two females would have fallen onto the floor in a heap if Obi-Wan didn't react quickly, pulling the crazed aide to the side. 

The next moment he found himself with his arms full of kicking and jerking woman that was yelling something incomprehensible. He tried to calm her down to get the reason for her odd behaviour - it's not that aides were running down the corridor like there was fire on their heels every day. Surprisingly, his voice seemed to cool the woman a bit, at least she stopped yelling madly. Now she was clinging to his tunic like her very life depended on it. Kamon joined Obi-Wan in his efforts and together they managed to bring some semblance of calm upon her, influencing her with the Force. 

As soon as the woman was able to form a relatively coherent sentence, she told them to go to Tarnos Imata's apartment. She was still unable to bring herself to tell them what frightened her so. She was clutching Obi-Wan's tunic so hard that he had to work really hard to extricate himself from her. Once he was free, the two Padawans left the still sobbing woman in the care of Namira and started towards the apartment they had spent the previous night in. 

When they reached the door to Tarnos' room they stopped and knocked at it. 

"Mr. Imata," Obi-Wan called out. 

Only utter silence greeted him.

"Mr. Imata, may we come in?" he called out again. Once again, he received no reply. 

The two boys exchanged nervous glances, and then Kamon pushed the 'open' button. The door slid open revealing a horrible sight: Tarnos Imata was lying in the middle of the room, still dressed in his nightgown. His face was extremely pale, blue veins lining it in all directions. The grey eyes stared at the ceiling - unseeing. The reason for the aide's behaviour was obvious now.

The two Padawans rushed into the room, careful to not touch anything. Obi-Wan bent over Imata to check his pulse - and found none. Straightening, Obi-Wan pulled out his comlink. Throwing one more look at the glassy eyes of the dead man, he punched in the code. When he heard Qui-Gon answer he said:

"Master, could you please come here?"

*******************

They gathered in Imata's common room waiting to hear what medics could say about his death - they being Namira and the three Jedi. Arones had already expressed his condolences to her, industriously faking a sorrowful expression on his face, and had retired to his apartment, saying that he had some business to attend to and asking to keep him informed. Namira was pale, her face drawn; she seemed to be at a loss as to what to do. Occasionally she threw at Kamon glances, full of hope as if she expected him to help her through this. 

Being 21 she wasn't a child, but she never had anyone of her family die. Besides she felt guilty for not being able to really grieve for a man that was her uncle. Yet she felt she wasn't ready to loose him. And she most certainly wasn't ready to take all the negotiations here upon herself - to take the responsibility it meant. She had been sent here because her father wanted her to be here, to learn from her uncle how to deal with such situations, for she was the only Imata of the next generation - Tarnos had no children. And now she was left on her own to deal with Arones who she secretly feared. Her father, being an invalid - he had lost an ability to move both his legs in an air-car crash a few years previously - couldn't possibly attend to the negotiations.

Namira sat huddled in a deep plush chair, looking very young and lost. It was clear that Kamon wanted to comfort her but didn't dare to under the watchful eye of Master Jinn. Looking at the composed faces of the Jedi, Namira wished she could control her emotions like that. Little did she know about what was really going on behind the stoic mask of Jedi serenity.

Obi-Wan, for instance, had to struggle to maintain some semblance of peace on his face. The death of Imata weighted down on him - he was, after all, responsible for guarding the man. Guilt swelled within him as he once again looked at Namira. He knew the man's death was not his fault but he could not help thinking that if he were there it could be prevented, he could have done something. No matter how bad the man was he was a living being, and every life was priceless. 

And Obi-Wan was cold again. He thought he felt cold this night, but now he was freezing despite the obviously comfortable temperature in the room - seemingly no one else felt any discomfort. He was so cold he had to grit his teeth to keep them from chattering. He could remember only one other time he felt so cold - it was when he and his Master were forced to spend some time on Hoth during one of their missions. But Allura was nowhere close in climate to the snow-covered planet. It could mean only one thing - something was wrong with him.

To keep his thoughts occupied Obi-Wan picked up one of the colourful magazines scattered on the nearby table. He flipped through the pages, looking at pictures there, but strangely enough, every picture reminded him of Anisa Tontri. One girl on the picture had the same hair, only without red streaks that added a special charm to Anisa. Another girl sat in the same graceful pose as Anisa had in the club…  _Am I getting obsessed? _ He silently asked himself. Somehow the thought of Anisa has made him feel warmer. He found he longed to see her again, to touch her.  _But this is not appropriate,_  he reminded himself sternly. 

To keep his thoughts away from her - he didn't like the way they returned to him with every image he saw in the magazine - he started to read an article. He has read the half of it already, not really comprehending what he was reading, when a realization struck him, making his guts twist and heavy feeling form in his stomach - **he couldn't recognize some of the letters**. He had learned all the letters when he was two and never since had he forget any of them. But now he found himself looking in confusion at the symbols on the page. He ravaged his memory in desperate search for the meaning of these letters but has come up with nothing. Was it some sort of illness that made him forget?

He examined himself. Surely, he wasn't ill. It didn't feel like that. He wasn't even sure anymore that something was wrong with him. In fact, he couldn't remember ever feeling any different. It seemed that colours of the world around him were always this dull and lifeless. That the air smelled of nothing. Now that he thought of it, it seemed to him that he has always been feeling this way. Was it normal, then? Perhaps, he could reach through the bond he shared with his Master to find out if what he felt was the same for other people, but one look at Qui-Gon told him it was better to leave the older Jedi alone for the time being. 

Qui-Gon was sitting in his chair, his face producing an utter calmness, but by his rigid pose Obi-Wan could tell that the other was concerned with what had occurred. The Master kept throwing glances at his Padawan, which the latter perceived as displeased and accusing. In truth, Qui-Gon was somewhat concerned with the too quiet behaviour of his apprentice and his somewhat pale countenance. Not that he was expecting Obi-Wan to pace the room but the boy moved only to turn pages of the magazine. He appeared to be deep in thought, and knowing him, Qui-Gon deduced that, most likely, he was blaming himself for the death of Imata. This was wrong, and Qui-Gon decided to talk to Obi-Wan about it. But this was not the right time, he will do it later, there was time to do it after they spoke to the medics. A cold feeling settled in the pit of his stomach, whispering him that he might not have that time, that there might be no  _later_ . But he dismissed this thought as a result of sleepless night. 

Before he could think further on the matter, the door to the room opened, admitting a medic. All the eyes immediately locked on him as he quietly walked inside to stand in the center of the room. Qui-Gon stood up from his chair, not quite able to contain his relief that the long wait was over and eager to hear what the man had to say.

"I am Doctor Abar Konin. We have examined the body of Mr. Imata," the medic started, addressing mostly to Qui-Gon. Namira went even paler at the words. "I'm afraid we were unable to determine the cause of his death."

"What do you mean you couldn't determine the cause of his death? He couldn't die out of nothing," Qui-Gon put in as the doctor paused, the Jedi's brow raised.

"Yes, he couldn't just go and die for no reason," Konin replied, his face showing his indignation at the thought. "But we can't find what caused his death. He was a healthy man; all of his internal organs are intact and quite healthy for a human his age. He has no wounds, not even a scratch. It looks like life had been simply sucked out of him in a matter of seconds."

"Do you have any idea, how that could happen?" Qui-Gon asked, his own mind racing trying to find anything similar to this in the back yard of his memory.

"I'm afraid I'm totally clueless," the man replied, his face confused and apologetical.

 _You could repeat that. _ Qui-Gon thought to himself. 

*******************


	9. Chapter 9

Cerasi5, Liyanette, thank you for your reviews and for reading. Hope you'll like this, too ;-)

~*~*~*~*~*~

Arones stared angrily into Namira's face. She shifted nervously under this heavy stare but refused to back off.

"As an official head representative of High House Imata I refuse to sign this treaty." She threw a quick, unsure glance at the Jedi who were sitting her left, seeking support. Kamon nodded slightly, and Namira turned her eyes back to her opponent. 

"This agreement has been reached by you uncle and myself after long discussions. The only thing that was left was its signing. Too bad we lost him in the most inappropriate time." The callousness of his words struck Namira, but she continued to stand her ground.

"You might have reached an agreement with my uncle, but not with me. I don't understand why you insist that you must have two thirds of this sector of market. I think it would be just if both of our houses get equal parts."

"Our company is more productive."

"Due to the fact that you pay very little to your workers and that you import low-quality metal." Namira parried.

The Jedi were surprised at her knowledge on the matter. Arones, on the other hand, was angered by this. He looked he was ready to attack her. At that moment Namira was grateful for the presence of the Jedi. Qui-Gon started to look for a way to calm down Arones, but Anisa was already talking to her boss, forestalling anything the Jedi Master could do. 

"This is an outrage!" Arones screamed. "You have no right to know..." He abruptly realized what he was about to confess and cut himself short. "This all is a commercial secret."

"You treat your workers in an awful way..." Namira started, but was interrupted by Arones, who has already managed to regain his composure. 

With a sweet and disarming smile that didn't reach his eyes, he said. "I see now that we still have much to discuss on the matter. I propose we leave it until tomorrow, considering that today has been a long and tiring day for all of us."

Namira, who was feeling her resolve waning with every second, was glad that it was over for a while. She could barely believe that she had actually managed to hold Arones in place, not to succumb to his demands. This was encouraging. Tomorrow she would be even more prepared.

"Master Jinn, I think I will not be needing your presence in the next two hours. I doubt anyone would attempt to attack me while I'm surrounded by my aides," Arones said, standing from his seat. Then he made a quick exit, all of his aides and assistants trailing behind him.

********************

Namira was exhausted from her arguments with Arones. She stood her ground, but it took much from her – she wasn't experienced in this, wasn't prepared for such a fierce confrontation. She rubbed her temples wearily as she stood up to go to her bedroom. Kamon also stood up. He shifted nervously under the heavy quizzical look Qui-Gon was giving him.

"I think… umm… I must stay with Namira… er… to protect her." He threw a quick glance at Obi-Wan, hoping to get his support, but the other Padawan was lost deep in his thoughts and appeared to not notice anything around him. Kamon didn't know what to expect of Master Jinn; he wasn't even sure he was doing the right thing. So he was somewhat surprised when Qui-Gon actually said, "All right."

Qui-Gon on his part wasn't all that happy with apparent friendship – or maybe more, who knows – that developed between the two, but he needed to talk to Obi-Wan. And he needed to do it in private. The state his Padawan was in concerned him more with each passing minute.

Namira seemed to be relieved that she wouldn't have to stay alone. She bid good-bye to both Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan and went into her room, followed closely by Kamon.

The Master and the apprentice were finally left alone.

****************

Obi-Wan was sitting on the couch, his hands lying clasped on his lap. He stared at them absentmindedly. He felt his thoughts wandering about his head like people, lost in a dense fog – the whole crowd of thoughts, yet they avoided him. He tried to catch at least one of them, to focus on it, but all he could grasp were incoherent shreds. 

"Padawan!" Qui-Gon's rather sharp voice startled him out of the muddy mist his thoughts has turned into. Obi-Wan's head jerked up to stare at his Master's face. "Are you all right?" Qui-Gon said in a much softer voice, concern glowing in his eyes.

"I'm fine," Obi-Wan stated and winced at the sound of his own voice – suddenly hoarse.  _How am I ever going to convince him if I can't seem to convince myself? _ He didn't know why was it that he needed to convince Qui-Gon he was well. He wasn't, after all. Though Obi-Wan was always a type of person to close in on himself when such problems arouse rather than go to someone to cry on their shoulder, he wasn't prone to hiding his problems from his Master like this. There was something unnatural in the way he knew he had to keep to himself.

Qui-Gon sat down next to his Padawan. The boy's face was pale and drawn, lined with fatigue.  _Maybe he's simply tired? _ Qui-Gon thought. But the Master knew there was more to it than that. Obi-Wan seemed to be cold, though when Qui-Gon had put his hand to the boy's forehead he could feel no heat. The soft flesh under his palm was cool – perhaps a bit cooler than usual, but nothing really to worry about. And nothing that could justify Obi-Wan's withdrawn – and increasingly odd – behaviour.

Finding nothing physically wrong with his Padawan, Qui-Gon tried to reach him through their bond… only to bump full force into the strongest shields he encountered in Obi-Wan's mind in years. Qui-Gon opened his eyes and looked at the boy, who was still staring at his hands. He looked very young – more like a lost and confused child than a bright young man he really was.  _What happened to you? _ Qui-Gon silently asked.  _Why won't you talk to me?_  He took Obi-Wan's smaller hands in his big ones, offering comfort, trying to get through the wall Obi-Wan has built between himself and outer world.

"Please, look at me," he pleaded. Troubled blue-green eyes – like a stormy sea – turned to look into Qui-Gon's blue ones. The Master was shocked to see deep distress and confusion in them. "Tell me, what's wrong?"

A puzzled expression graced Obi-Wan's features. "Nothing's wrong."

Qui-Gon felt frustration build up in him. Why was Obi-Wan resisting? What was he hiding?

"You can tell me, Padawan. I only want to help you," Qui-Gon let his worry seep into his voice. But a small note of accusation leaked through as well. He immediately regretted that he didn't have better control on his voice as he saw hurt expression blossom in Obi-Wan's eyes. 

Gently he squeezed small hands with ling slim fingers he still held in his own. Obi-Wan was about to say something when Qui-Gon's comlink went off. The Master huffed in irritation. 

"Jinn here."

"Please, report to Arones' quarters in two hours," one of Arones' aides said in an official tone.

"I will. Jinn out." He felt anger swell in him at this untimely intrusion and quickly worked to release it into the Force.  Just when I was starting to get somewhere!  

The moment was spoiled. Obi-Wan was staring out the window at the dashing traffic. 

"Would you like some tea?" Qui-Gon asked, getting up from the couch, feeling somewhat awkward. 

Obi-Wan nodded his consent, not turning his eyes from the blue sky behind the large window. Silence settled in as Qui-Gon thought how to approach his apprentice again. Tea-pot whistled its readiness, breaking the heavy and uncomfortable silence. Qui-Gon poured some tea into two cups and returned to his Padawan's side. Handing him one cup, the Master settled across from him in a low chair.

Obi-Wan had to unclasp his hands in order to take the offered cup. His hands were shaking slightly as he accepted the cup of tea, rich deep fragrance of which made him forget his troubles for a second. But his comfort was short-lived. A shadow came across his vision, drowning the scene before him in a gray mist; everything swam out of focus.

Qui-Gon watched in alarm as the boy's hands suddenly shook violently, spilling hot aromatic liquid onto his hands and clothes. The Master was at Obi-Wan's side in the blink of an eye. The boy looked at his hands as if he couldn't believe they betrayed him like that. Then a thought came into his mind.  _If I have hot tea on my hands shouldn't I feel burning? Then why don't I?_  He looked at his hands as if expecting them to answer, then raised his head to look at Qui-Gon, who had taken the cup from him to put it onto nearby table. 

"Obi-Wan, are you alright?" Qui-Gon's voice was laced with concern he didn't even try to hide. 

It suddenly occurred to Obi-Wan that he was acting like a little child. But he was no little child. "I'm fine, Master. I think I'll just need to change." With these words he stood up and went to the door. At the door he paused and turned when Qui-Gon called his name.

"Are you sure, Padawan?" Qui-Gon was looking at him intently.

"Yes, Master." With that Obi-Wan turned and walked out the room. 

********************

Obi-Wan was quietly walking down the corridor. Any other time he would have at least walked in a much quicker pace, his youthful energy demanding an outlet, but not today. Today he felt like a huge boulder was placed on his shoulders, weighting him down. He was turning the corner when he saw the person he craved to see yet dreaded meeting with - Anisa. She was striding purposefully down the corridor. He stopped to watch her as she moved. 

Strong. Yes, this was the word he would describe her with. There was nothing weak in her - from her brown with red streaks hair, that now laid on her shoulders in two thick braids, to her lither hands. Her eyes... they were unusual. But he had no time to contemplate on what it was that hid in their depth. 

When she neared him he felt as if his heart would leap out of his chest. Her misty green eyes bored into his, seeking confirmation of what she expected him to feel. And she found it. He was not the first - there have been many before him, though no one of them had been so innocent and pure - and he was feeling the same all of them once had - longing to touch her. Some buried themselves in her embrace – virtually. 

But she also could see struggle in him. He knew what he wanted but he wouldn't succumb to his desire so easily. This was what made Jedi special - they could put up a fight against their own wishes. And this was what she admired in him. But ultimately he will not escape. He will be hers.

Enjoying it inwardly she reached out her hand to touch him, to stroke his cheek. He might feel that he shouldn't touch her, but he didn't back away from her touch –  _and it was his mistake_ . A cold yet burning sensation washed over his skin – it felt like a piece of ice has been put to his face, boring into his skin. His hand reflexively jerked up to cover what felt like injured skin, but there was no injury. Anisa smiled at him, but in her eyes he saw not mirth but triumph and something akin to satisfaction of an animal that plays with its prey. He shuddered at what he saw in the glowing eyes of a beautiful woman – **his death**. 

*****************


	10. Chapter 10

**Cerasi5** Weird? You don't know what weird is just yet :D 

Yes, it was the kiss, just a kiss. Morals - never kiss strangers (just kidding ;-) )

~*~*~*~*~

Black smoke, heart-wrenching cries, blaster shots – a settlement that had been so peaceful just an hour ago was immersed into the chaos of war. No, it was not real war for war implies two fighting parties. This was destruction, uncaring erasing of everything. People – men, women and children – were wiped out without a thought. But then again, how is a droid army supposed think? The metallical monsters invaded the settlement, breaking the peaceful morning – the sound of their mechanic feet on the ground permeated the air – they were wrecking havoc, bringing terror and death. Rising sun had basked the carnage in its light, turning everything blood red. 

People ran between their burning homes in fear. Nothing could stop the droids: neither resistance, nor pleas. Droids had no heart. They had an order to wipe the settlement out of existence and they would do just that. Yes, droids didn't have hearts, but those who gave them orders were even more heartless. 

The main street of the settlement was in the same chaos as the rest of it: houses burning and falling in on themselves one by one, people screaming and running in blind panic. And in the center of all this stood a seventeen-year-old girl. She came here to buy some fruits from an old woman, like she did every week. But this time she found herself in the middle of hell. She froze at the sight before her, unable to move. Never in her short life had she seen such cruelty. She has grown up with caring parents and kind friends, never knowing war, never seeing so much death. She stood right in the middle of the street, sharp wind waving her long silky hair that were now covered in ash flown around by the wind, caustic smoke eating at her eyes, blurring her sight – the very embodiment of shock. 

A child about five or six years old ran out from one of the houses that collapsed right behind him. The young girl, standing in the middle of the chaos, could barely see the little blond boy through the tears in her eyes that she made no move to wipe – she just couldn't move. The boy was in panic of being left alone in the pandemonium that had suddenly erupted in a quiet village, not knowing where his parents were, feeling only terror and desperation of dozens of people killed. Terror and desperation that were palpable in the air. 

He stopped, not knowing where to run. Dark smeared spots of ash marked his clear, innocent face. Then he spotted her – the only one who wasn't running with wild screams – and rushed to her as fast as his little legs would carry him. He had almost reached her when a battle droid came around the corner of a house behind him. With her eyes wide the girl watched in slow motion as the droid fired at the unsuspecting and vulnerable child. She wanted to rush to the child, to cover him, but she was frozen by shock – unable to move but able to watch. She desperately wanted to close her eyes, to not see what was happening – but she could not. The child stumbled as a blaster bolt reached him, then slumped to the ground in a small bundle. He never moved again. 

Rivers of tears ran down her cheeks but she didn't care. She didn't care for the droid that now aimed at her. So intense was her grief that she didn't care for anything but the life of a little child that has been wasted so ruthlessly. This was simply too much for her. She felt a hand grab her arm, pulling her out of the harm's way. She didn't resist. Grief started to go away, leaving the dark empty void in its wake. The droid's fire missed her by centimeters, but the fact only registered in her mind, not evoking any emotion from the soul that was overweighed by the brutality of destruction.

"What are you doing here, all alone, child?" She heard a kind and worried voice ask her. Through the haze that enveloped her, she could barely make out weatherworn appearance of an old woman. A warm hand, covered with wrinkles, brushed her hair, bringing comfort. And this one human gesture in the middle of death-stricken village made the girl loose any semblance of control. With a loud sob, she buried her face in the old woman's worn clothes, clinging to her like this woman was everything that was left in the entire universe. 

Everything was in a haze after that. The girl couldn't remember how they got away from the village, or how they got to her native village that was nearby. She could scarcely remember her relatives fussing around her, asking questions – questions she didn't want to hear and didn't want to answer. Her parent's voices seemed to drown in a roar that reigned in her head. 

*********************

The seventeen year-old girl woke up with a start the morning after carnage. The first rays of morning sun crept tentatively through the small windows of the old wooden house. Everything breathed with peace. She didn't get up immediately**,** decidinginstead to stay in bed for a while. She lay on her back**,** feeling the last remnants of dream dissipate and memories of previous day reestablish themselvesin her mind. She remembered the horrible destruction of that village and thanked every god she knew that it was not her own village. Then it occurred to her that the droid army would proceed and eventually come to her village too. 

A lump formed in her throat and tears welled up in her eyes when she envisioned how the people she knew and loved would be killed, and her home would be destroyed. Fear rose in her but then it transformed into resolve. She woulddo everything possible to not let the same fate of the neighboring villagebefall her own village. 

She reflected how her people and thepeople of the neighbouring village used to live - the way of relationship maintained by generations and tested by time. 

Though most sentient inhabitants of Allura were human, her people weren't. The original population of the planet was all but extinct, replaced by colonists. Most colonists came from highly populated worlds such as Coruscant or Correlia. But no one knew where the inhabitants of this particular settlement had come from, though it was known that they had come from one faraway star system. There were few legends, describing the appearance of their race on Allura, but they could hardly be trusted**,** for most of them contradicted each other in the most important of things. 

All the legends agreed on only one thing: the name of the race: Kunikuri - "soulhunters". One might think it to be odd that the whole race could be called this, but truth be told, they were who they were called. They needed other sentient beings' souls for survival. They devoured those souls, like vampires drankblood, leaving only theempty shell of a body. 

Once upon a timethey really hunted for the souls, bringing horror to the surrounding settlements. People frightened naughty children by telling soulhunters would come and 'eat' their souls. But then it had ended. Kunikuri had settled down and built their own village next to one of the largest human settlements. They had made an agreement according to which people had given one of their own to the soulhunters**,** to keep them alive. In return Kunikuri, whohad thepowers to call or stop rain, helped people get a larger harvest. 

Kunikuri and humanshad lived side by side for ages, until the day came when someone decided to build a metallurgical plant in that area. The metallurgic magnate's plan had been perfect, and there had been only one little obstacle - settlements. But the obstacle could be easily eradicated by the means of a droid army… 

Anisa let her gaze slide onto the tall window of an office that belonged to the very same magnate. She could still remember how she - asa young common girl from a village that knew nothingbut peace - had come to the city she had visited only once or twice in her entire life. She had had no trouble finding the main office of Arones - the man responsible for the destruction of many villages, including the massacre she had witnessed. Streets were virtually screaming at her with placards and posters, Arones'promotion campaign at its heights. She had had some trouble getting into his office, but her resolve had beenunwavering, and she hadmanaged that too. 

At first Arones had been very surprised to see her in his office - how could he not be? - his office wasn't open for public. But then he saw a very good opportunity for himself. He listened to the girl, indifferently at first, then with a growing interest. She sat before him, nervously clutching her simple dress, trying to make her voice, weak from fear, sound stronger. And then he made a proposal Anisa could not decline. He promised to leave her village alone if she worked for him. 

She had accepted his proposal then. He had made her his personal assistant -  _his personal killer_.  At first**,** she strongly resented having to kill people at his order, but she quickly learned that it was the only way to keep everything she loved safe. Innocence and purity of her soul was the price she paid. How ironic - a soulhunter had to sell her own soul to save her people.Her lips curved in a wry, ironic smile that had no mirth in it. She also lost love and respect of her relatives and everyone she knew. Whenever she met one of them she got only looks of disdain, they hated her. And they had very good reason to hate her. She had saved her village, but she became the same as those who had wanted to destroy it. 

Now she had no trouble killing any sentient being if Arones told her to, though some part of her still took solace in theknowledge that those she killed were as evil and spoiled as Arones - or herself. Anisa even had options: she could do it fast with just one deep kiss, or she could draw it out; the latter gave her some perverted pleasure. In the latter case,it required a kiss first. Then even the slightest touch was sufficient. She even killed several people**,** not for Arones**,** but for her own pleasure. Still, she had done it only four times in the nine years that she has been Arones' 'aide'. Obi-Wan was going to be the fifth 

But did she really want to continue to be this way? Couldn't she change her life? What she had done in the pasthad been heronly option**,** but now everything was different. She could find other ways to keep Arones away from her people. She could stop being heartless, although she suspected she had no heart anymore.

Arones' voice brought her out of her reverie. The man looked angry and agitated as he paced the floor of his office. Finally he sat down into the chair at his desk but didn't calm down a tad bit. He drummed his fingers nervously on the table's polished surface. 

"That Imata girl is of more trouble than I thought. We must get rid of her," he glanced at Anisa. "Kill her."

She stoodsilent for a long time. A struggle was going on inside her. Should she comply as she always did or could she stop walking this path? She had taken this path those long nine years ago. Could she leave it now? Did she have enough courage? To quit now would mean to become personal enemy of Arones. She didn't know if she was up to it. Perhaps memories had brought up her suppressed conscience. Or maybe it was innocence of Namira that made her come to a decision. Finally Anisa shook her head. "No." 

Arones stared at her in disbelief, which quickly morphed into anger. Then he erupted. She stood her ground, holding her head high, waiting for him to stop yelling. She took the moment he paused for breath to retort:

"I have had enough of you and your orders," she said calmly**,** though she was nowhere close to calm inside. On contrary, astorm was brewing, threatening to consume her. She was suddenly disgusted with him and his wealth. She wanted no part in his dirty business anymore. "I will not kill anyone else for you. I resign." 

"Then your people will die," he breathed angrily, giving her a dark look.

"I will find another way to save them." With these words**,** Anisa left the office, thestunned Arones in it. She stormed past a surprised looking secretary and out of the quarters, stopping only when she was in a corridor. There**,** she leaned against the wall, trying to calm down the thoughts that were racing frantically through her mind. Had she done the right thing? She didn't know. She only knew that there was no turning back.

Anisa felt like she hadjust woken from a horrible nightmare. Her thoughts, which had beendwelling on what she had done in the past nine years, suddenly moved to Obi-Wan, and shame overtook her. She tried to think of a way to help him but came up with only one option - kill him fast to stop his suffering. There was no alternative she knew of. And so she went to his quarters. 

******************


	11. Chapter 11

**Cerasi5**, **saint**, **TallyG**, thank you.

**Maygin**, thank you for long review. You know, I love supernatural things, too. Hence this story. It's really good to know that not only the idea of the story is good, but my writing style is okay, too.

All right, I'll keep posting. And you keep reviewing ;-)

~*~*~*~*~

Long minutes had passed since Anisa left him in the corridor;yet Obi-Wan still stood where he was. He had to lean on the wall for support, as his knees suddenly felt weak. A dark sense of dread washed over him, that and something else. Thecombination of the feelingsmade him feel sick, rendering him motionless. Burning cold on his cheek didn't subside, if anything it only spread, capturing more and more of Obi-Wan's skin. The Padawan finally remembered where he hadbeen going before he met Anisa. Pushing himself away from the wall**,** he slowly made his way to his quarters. 

Once there**,** he stopped in the middle of the room.He mainlywantedto think about what to do next. At any rate, his feet felt so numb he doubted he could make another step. Heavy mist clouded his thoughts, and it took him a while to remember again that he came here to change. Pain suddenly shot through him, sending him to his knees. A moan escaped him as another bolt of pain coursed through his body. His skin felt like being on fire or covered with ice - there was no difference anyway.

His head exploded in a splitting headache, and he clutched his temples, trying in vain to drive the pain away. Bright spots danced before his eyes, obscuring his vision. It didn't matter whether his eyes were open or not; either way he could see nothing but those spots. Another shot of pain - this one even worse than theprevious one - and he crumpled to the floor, curling in on himself. 

//Master,// he whispered in his mind. //Help me!// 

If there was any answer, he didn't hear it; his mind refused to register anything but pain. He felt like all of his internal organs were being ripped out of his body one by one. Another moan escaped his dry lips as the pain became constant, almost unbearable. 

//Master!// he cried again, feeling himself slipping into the black void of unconsciousness. Didn't Qui-Gon hear him? Wasn't he coming?

*****************

Arones sat staring after Anisa for long moments after she left. He had thought he had her completely under his control. But this time his ace-card - danger to her village - didn't work. It was bound to happen some day, and he knew it. Hence, he was always looking for a way to get her back under his control. And, perhaps, it was finally time to exercise that control. He pressed a button on his comm. unit and told those on the other end to come to his office immediately. 

In the time it took his people get to his office, Arones reviewed once again what he was planning to do. He had studied legends and facts about soulhunters - everything he could find. And he knew that once a soulhunter engaged in a long-term 'soul stealing' he or she was connected to their victims. It might not be evident in their behaviour, but they needed to take the victim's whole soul as much as the victim needed to be close to the soulhunter.

Anisa was not aware that Arones knew this; and this little fact might truly be the key to her undoing. A predatory smile spread on the man's face.  _Yes, he'll get her back._  She had been a perfect killer. From the very beginning there had been too few of soulhunters on the planet for the knowledge of their existence to be wide spread And so no one could understand what happened to the people Anisa 'worked' on. 

His train of thoughts was interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Come in," he called. Two of his guards - who were much more than that - entered the room. They stopped before his table, looking at him respectfully, waiting for his orders. 

Arones looked the two men over. If he didn't know better he would have thought them to be brothers. Both were tall and bulky, both had short black hair and wore simple black dress. Arones let satisfaction with them glow in his eyes. 

"Abduct the Kenobi kid," he said coolly. "Then take him off planet. I will appoint one of my aides to help you."

"Yes, sir," both 'guards' answered in unison, then turned as one, and left to carry out the order.

Being left alone again, Arones sighed. Those two weren't exactly the smartest of his men, but they were very loyal. He could rely on them in such business. Although he would have to order one of his closest aides to work out an operation plan for them. He pressed the button on his comm. unit again, calling the man he knew to be the best for this task.

******************

Qui-Gon was still sitting in the Imata common room, thinking, when he heard Obi-Wan's call: 

//Master,// he heard a faint voice in his head. //Help me!//

Qui-Gon was on his feet in an instant, his Jedi reflexes making him react even before he could think. 

//I'm coming, Padawan,// he sent back anxiously. But the sudden cry not only made him anxious, it surprised him greatly. Through all the years Obi-Wan had been Qui-Gon's Padawan, he hadn't often cried out to him like that. In fact, a usually openhearted Obi-Wan became a bit reserved with his Master when something was wrong. He saw being unable to handle a situation as a weakness. And he definitely didn't like his Master seeing him as a weakling. If something was wrong he preferred to hold his own counsel - or Yoda's, Qui-Gon realized with a pang of regret. These thoughts frantically rushed through Qui-Gon's mind in an instant, being cut short with another cry:

//Master!// 

Qui-Gon could feel a tinge of desperation in the boy's voice. He reached to Obi-Wan through the bond they shared, trying to send him some comfort. He also tried to understand what was so wrong that made the Padawan cry out to him like that. Next instant a devastating wave of pain rolled over him, and he gasped for breath, his lungs burning. He had to grab the edge of the table to keep himself from falling onto the floor. His mind reeled. Then it all abruptly ended. Obi-Wan had slammed his shields down, cutting Qui-Gon off. This sudden action momentarily deafened Qui-Gon, leaving him dazed. Only the vague echo of pain reverberated at his end of the bond. Everything else was empty.

Qui-Gon quickly let go of the table's edge he was still clutching and hurried to Obi-Wan's quarters on the unsteady legs. All the while a very unsettling thought plagued his baffled mind: if the pain was so severe to him, how much Obi-Wan must suffer? 

The Jedi Master ran headlong through the corridors of the building, intent on getting to his Padawan as quickly as possible. The place was so crowded all of a sudden that he collided with people on almost every turn. He could hear angry shouts through the haze that enveloped him, but couldn't care less. People stared at him as he ran past them with his face twisted with worry bordering on insanity.

After what seemed like ages to the distraught Master, he reached Obi-Wan's quarters. The door swished open when he punched in the code impatiently. Qui-Gon's eyes immediately fixed on his apprentice: Obi-Wan was lying in the center of the room, curled up in a fetal position, hugging himself. His fragile form was shaking wildly. Qui-Gon took in Obi-Wan's ashen pale face, eyes squeezed shut, with tears glistening under the lashes. The sight made the Master's heart leap into his throat, and his insides turn cold. Qui-Gon bolted to Obi-Wan's side; he was down on his knees, Obi-Wan's head in his arms in the blink of an eye.

"Obi-Wan," he whispered softly. The only answer he got was a barely audible moan.

Gently embracing Obi-Wan, he reached into the Force. His connection to the Force was frail at best - his worry getting the best of him - but years of being a Jedi enabled him to reach the Force even in such a desperate situation. Obi-Wan's presence - usually so bright - was dim, clouded by suffering and something Qui-Gon could not discern. The presence seemed distorted somehow, ragged at sides. And it was slowly fading into non-existence.

He had to get the medics, to do something! But dare he leave Obi-Wan? Qui-Gon feared to let go of his apprentice, lest Obi-Wan slipped away completely. He tried to pour healing energy of the Force into Obi-Wan but ran full speed into stone walls the apprentice had raised around his mind. He could do nothing. And this helplessness crushed him.

Grudgingly letting go of Obi-Wan, he stood up, his legs quivering all of a sudden. Qui-Gon made his way across the room to the comm. unit and called the medics and called for the medics, hurriedly explaining the situation. He then staggered back to Obi-Wan and kneeled - or rather crashed onto his knees - at his side. He hugged the boy again, trying to share his own warmth with him, since he couldn't share anything else. 

"Don't leave me," he begged.

The youth's skin was cold - too cold for Qui-Gon's touch. He was shivering against his Master's broad chest. Slim, trembling hands grabbed Qui-Gon's tunic and clung to it.

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon whispered, choking on his words. Tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision.

The older Jedi saw the boy's lips move and had to strain to hear what he was saying. Still, all he could make out was: "Master!"

"I'm here, child. Don't worry, it'll be all right," Qui-Gon whispered. He needed the reassurance himself as much as did Obi-Wan - maybe even more. For a moment, blue-green eyes, clouded with pain, opened to regard him. What Qui-Gon saw in them made tears flow freely down his face - for he saw love there. Not the love of a Padawan to his Master but a love of a son for his father. Then the eyes closed again, long eyelashes brushing pallid cheeks. Qui-Gon's heart sunk as the boy went limp in his arms. For a terrible second Qui-Gon thought Obi-Wan was dead. The very thought made the world around him crack like a broken glass. Frantically, he reached for Obi-Wan's presence, heaving a sigh of relief through his tight throat upon finding it still trembling somewhere on the verge of darkness of death. Faraway, but still there.

Every minute of waiting for the healers to arrive felt like eternity to Qui-Gon.  _What could possibly take them this long? _ He questioned the air around him. He was cradling the unconscious Obi-Wan in his arms, gently rocking him, trying - vainly - to reach him through the Force. Amazingly, Obi-Wan still managed to keep his shields up, not letting the pain leak through to his Master.

Finally having had enough, Qui-Gon stood up, gathering the limp form of his apprentice in his strong arms. The youth's head rolled lifelessly. Qui-Gon gently adjusted the boy's head against his shoulder, brushing Obi-Wan's short silky hair.

"Padawan, please, hold on," he pleaded breathlessly around the lump in his throat. Not wanting to wait for another second - that could cost Obi-Wan his life - Qui-Gon darted to the medic center, trying to keep Obi-Wan as steady in his arms as possible.

****************

Anisa strode down the hall; she would have run but she didn't want to risk being seen rushing. It could bring forth undesirable rumors. But her legs carried her faster and faster against her will. Once or twice she had to force herself to slow down for, fearing that she had actually started to jog. People around her gave her weird looks. It wasn't comfortable to walk on high heels either, but some unknown excitement pushed her forward.

 _Soon I'll have his soul! _ She thought in escalation. She envisioned how she would savour that pristine clear soul, how she would suck it out of him…

 _Wait! _ Anisa came to an abrupt stop. Several people bumped into her, then started to shout at her. She paid them no heed.  _I did not leave Arones and his dirty business to continue doing it on my own. This means I'm not supposed to enjoy taking soul - and life - from this boy._  Shaking her head, she continued on her path, leaving an angered mob behind. 

She seemed to reach a resolve to get away from the ugly path she had taken years ago. But nine years couldn't be so easily thrown away. Soon she found herself again thinking about how sweet Obi-Wan and his soul were. She really couldn't help thinking that way - bad habits are hard to get rid of. 

She finally reached his quarters - she knew where they were thanks to being Arones' aide and she didn't hesitate to use that knowledge. Deciding to be polite, in case there was someone else, she knocked at the door. Silence greeted her. She knocked again, louder this time. Still, no response. But she couldn't walk away like that. What if Obi-Wan was inside but couldn't answer? She didn't want to loose the chance however small it could be.

She took a small device out of her pocket. Those nine years didn't pass with her just sitting at Arones' side. No, she cared to acquire some useful things, like this one. In a few seconds the little, unsuspiciously looking device overrode the lock, granting the soulhunter entrance to the quarters. 

She slipped inside and looked around. From the first look the quarters seemed empty. Careful search only proved that.

 _Where could he be? _ She wondered.  _Imata's quarters, of course! _ She silently cursed her stupidity at not thinking about it earlier. 

She slipped outside as quietly as she entered, heading for Imata apartment.

*****************

Qui-Gon sat in the waiting room of the Medic center, staring at the closed doors. Behind those doors the medics were examining his Padawan. When Qui-Gon had burst through the doors of the Medic center the medics had been shocked. To their credit, they quickly came to their senses and took Qui-Gon's Padawan from the Master's caring hands and into examination room. Qui-Gon was forced to stay outside. 

The waiting room was white and clean, as were all such rooms everywhere across the galaxy. It looked sterile. Thin but persistent smell of antiseptic permeated the air. There were no windows, just two doors: one leading to the corridor, the other - to the examination room. Walls were lined with metal chairs. 

Now that Obi-Wan was in capable hands of medics, Qui-Gon felt some semblance of self control return to him.  _But are they really capable? _ A thought sprang up in his mind, taunting him.  _What if they can't find what's wrong with him and, more important, can't heal him? What if…? _ Qui-Gon cut the thought short. He couldn't let himself think of that possibility. He wouldn't think of it. Perhaps, if he didn't think of that it would not happen? He heaved a heavy sigh and settled in the chair, intent on waiting and not letting his mind go crazy from the unbearable thought. 

He tried to think of something to occupy his mind with, but his thoughts stubbornly returned to Obi-Wan. No surprise there, actually.  _But what could happen to Obi-Wan? _ This question played itself again and again in his consciousness, driving him mad. But the answer steadfastly eluded him, raising bitter frustration. 

Time was slowly trudging by, like endless continuity for the worried Master. Perhaps, an hour has passed. Qui-Gon rubbed his sore back.  _Why do the chairs in the infirmaries always have to be so uncomfortable?_  He wondered distractedly. Several times he tried to get through to Obi-Wan, but each time his attempts were cut short by the incredibly tight shielding of the boy.  _Just where did he learn to shield like that?_  Qui-Gon thought gruffly.  _That must be Yoda's doing._  He finally decided.

Finally the door to examination room opened, admitting a medic into the waiting room. Qui-Gon was on his feet and near the medic even before the door closed. 

"What did you find?" Qui-Gon asked without preamble, not caring for being polite.

The medic rubbed his forehead thoughtfully.

"It is a very unique case," he finally said. His dark eyes peered at Qui-Gon with sympathy.

"What do you mean 'unique'? How is he? May I see him?" The tone of the last statement implied that he would see Obi-Wan even if the medic said 'no'.

"Yes, you may see him now, though he is still unconscious." The medic decided to start from the last of this barrage of questions. He smiled at the Master with a kind and knowing smile, ushering him inside.

Once in the room, Qui-Gon's eyes immediately went to the prone form on the bed. The boy looked so young and frail. His hands were lying lifelessly at his sides. His deathly pale face was turned upwards in a serene expression of unconsciousness. If Obi-Wan wasn't so pale Qui-Gon would have sworn that he was just sleeping. The room was silent, save for a sound of a device, monitoring Obi-Wan's heart activity - comforting and chilling at the same time. 

On the unsteady legs Qui-Gon made his way to the bedside. He rearranged Obi-Wan's braid as it was dangling from the bed.  _It shouldn't be dangling_.  He thought.  _He might be negligent with his things at times, but he's always neat with his braid. He wouldn't like it to be disheveled._  He took Obi-Wan's hand in his own, squeezing it lightly, secretly hoping to get a response. But none was forthcoming. The hand was cold and heavy. And motionless. 

Of course Qui-Gon had seen Obi-Wan in grave situations before. In their five years together they were through much, especially considering Obi-Wan's tendency to get himself into trouble. Thinking of it they had spent more time in the Temple's infirmary than any other Master/Padawan team in the entire Order. And more often than not it had been Obi-Wan who had been injured. But this time he wasn't injured, at least not evidently. And it was the worst part of it. No one knew what was wrong with him.

That thought finally made Qui-Gon remember about the medic who was standing at his side, patiently waiting. 

"So what did you find out?" Qui-Gon asked, still holding Obi-Wan's hand. He didn't seem to be able to let go of it.

"Actually I think I know what's wrong with him," the medic paused, making sure the Jedi was listening to him. Qui-Gon stared at him impatiently. "And you are lucky that it was me who examined him. You see, there are that, let's say, beings - soulhunters. I think one of them had tried to get the soul of your son."

Qui-Gon made no motion to correct him. He had to struggle to maintain the stoic Jedi facade at hearing such news. 

"I happened to know something about them but unfortunately I don't know how to heal him," the medic went on. Seeing desolation raise in the tall Master's eyes, he quickly added: "However I know who could help you."

A splinter of hope made Qui-Gon's heart tremble. "And who is that person?" he asked, his voice almost cracking with emotion.

"It is the owner of an establishment called Woland's House," the medic looked at Qui-Gon as if expecting him to say something about not being ridiculous. When the Jedi remained silent, the medic continued: "I'll give you the address. Will you go there?"

Now Qui-Gon was genuinely confused. The man offered him a possibility of getting help. Why in the world would he think that Qui-Gon wouldn't use it?

"Well, you see," the medic answered the unspoken question. "It is a madhouse."

"What?!" 

******************


	12. Chapter 12

**TallyG**, hey don't hit my Obi! Besides, who said it was only her pretty face that made him fall for her? Thanks for the review. **Cerasi5**, thanks. And it'll get even more interesting… No, I'm not giving the plot away.

~*~*~*~*~

"Well, you see," the medic answered the unspoken question. "It is a madhouse."

"What?!" Qui-Gon was incredulous. "Are you saying Obi-Wan needs a psychiatrist?"

"No," the medic shifted nervously under Qui-Gon's inquiring gaze."But Rahe Tarlott is the only person in this city who knows enough about soulhunters to be able to help." Qui-Gon felt a stone he didn't know was there fall from his heart. This situation was dire enough as it was. The need in psychiatrist would have been entirely too much. The thought of Obi-Wan being locked in a madhouse was almost as painful and stunning as the thought of him being dead. 

"But I can't leave Obi-Wan alone," Qui-Gon looked over at the bed where his apprentice lay - so still, looking so young and vulnerable. The Master's heart ached to see him like this. "Can't I just call this Tarlott and ask him to come here?"

"I'm afraid not. I'd say he's a bit of a coward."

 _Just one thing after another_.  Qui-Gon sighed. "What do you mean, a coward? He's afraid to go out into the city?"

"No, he simply doesn't like strangers, he doesn't trust them. The only way you get him come here is going there and persuading him to come with you."

Qui-Gon gently rubbed the cold fragile hand of his Padawan he was still holding as if trying to give it some warmth.  "You say he doesn't trust strangers, but you seem to not be a stranger to him. Why don't you call him?" He was willing to use all possibilities that could let him stay.

"Umm, you see…" The medic blushed a little and stared at his feet. "We had err… an argument, and now he's angry at me. My call would only make things worse."

This was it. Qui-Gon had to go. He felt helpless. How could he leave Obi-Wan alone if only for the short time? What if Obi-Wan woke up to find out he was gone? Would he feel himself abandoned? How could Qui-Gon do such a thing to the boy who had become the most important person in his life? The Master gently smoothed the padawan's disheveled hair. He would have to go. There simply wasn't other option.

Qui-Gon looked at Obi-Wan again. Something - perhaps the Force or maybe his sixth sense - told him to not leave the boy alone. But if he doesn't bring that man Obi-Wan would die. Cold knot formed in the pit of his stomach at the thought. He couldn't let that happen. He would save his son. 

"Please, Padawan, hold on," he whispered to Obi-Wan, knowing the boy wouldn't hear, but still hoping. 

He reflected on the time they had spent together - short but so full it seemed like a lifetime. They shared so much. And they had even more in the future… if they have this future. The thought painfully reverberated through his mind, brining him back into the moment. This was not time for reflection. They would reflect on it later - together. There would be time. Obi-Wan would turn nineteen soon… They would make a great birthday party. It wasn't usual for Jedi to celebrate birthdays like that, but Qui-Gon would organize a party for his Padawan and his friends.

Friends! It dawned on him: he need not leave Obi-Wan all alone.  _I can't stay with him, but Padawan Turnell can._  It felt right somehow. Qui-Gon took out his comlink and called Kamon. 

Five minutes later Kamon and Namira appeared at the door. Namira looked frightened at first by Obi-Wan's appearance, but soon her compassionate self took over, and she sat next to Kamon at Obi-Wan's bed, looking down at the motionless boy with large blue watery eyes.She hasn't known Obi-Wan for long but he somehow managed to attract everyone he met. Right now she felt like he was her friend - not a close friend but certainly a dear one.****

Knowing that Obi-Wan wouldn't be alone now, Qui-Gon went to the door. He didn't turn because he was afraid that if he did he wouldn't be able to make it out the room.

****************

Again Anisa found herself walking down the corridors of the huge building. This building seemed to become some kind of a secluded world for everyone involved: representatives of High Houses Imata and Arones (Imata has even found his death here), their aides, the three Jedi and the usual staff. Of course the staff and most of the aides had no idea what really was going on in this little piece of universe. Anisa smiled and bitterly. She, on contrary, knew entirely too much - too much to sleep well. She was aware that her knowledge might very well become the reason for her death. After nine years she had absolutely no illusions about Arones and his ways.

But it didn't bother her now. Her thirst for Obi-Wan's soul had become too great to pay attention to anything else. And it was growing with every passing minute. She had waited too long. Unconsciously she let out a growl, not noticing people jumping away from her. She had to get to Obi-Wan as soon as possible or otherwise she might go insane.

This was the back of a medal - a soulhunter could go completely mad if he or she stayed away from the victim they were already connected to for a too long time.

Anisa walked swiftly, barely taking notice of her surroundings. People tried to stay away from her, seeing fire of determination and a bit of insanity in her unusually bright green eyes. In her time with Arones, some people, including several Arones' aides, called her a witch behind her back. Some even believed she was a real witch. Sometimes she used it to her advantage, sometimes she was annoyed by it. 

Her mind was working in only one direction - get to Obi-Wan. The thought prevailed in her consciousness, whisking all others away. She was so focused on her goal that she almost missed the other Padawan - as she called Kamon in her mind - and Namira Imata. They were heading towards her down the same corridor. Concern was plainly written all over their faces.

Noticing them, Anisa abruptly slowed her stride, rearranging her somewhat tousled hair. She approached the pair in a much more sedate pace. Namira threw her a wary glance.  _Is she afraid of me? _ Anisa wondered. She felt disdain at the thought, yet the slightest bit of satisfaction was lurking somewhere on the verge of her consciousness.

"Hello," Anisa greeted them in a most pleasant voice she could muster, plastering a false smile on her face. She noted Namira's hand grasp Kamon's elbow tighter. The Padawan, on the other hand, seemed unperturbed by her presence. Anisa suddenly had a disturbing feeling that he could see through all of her masks right into her soul. She swallowed uneasily.

Kamon returned the greeting, though his voice was much less pleasant, laced with cold. 

"Ah, do you know where Master Jinn is?" Anisa decided that perhaps Obi-Wan would be with his Master. Not a pleasant thought. She didn't know how to deal with a tall, skilled and, apparently, overprotective Jedi.

"He's in the Medical center with Obi-Wan," Namira blurted out before she could think. Seemingly realizing that she probably shouldn't have said that, Namira looked at the floor, trying to hide slight panic that rose in her eyes. 

Anisa had to fight to keep a triumphant smile from spreading on her face. What a naivety! 

"If you'll excuse us," Kamon said, pulling Namira with him. "We need to go. Have a nice day." He quickly led the girl away, supposedly to that very Medical center Namira mentioned. 

Anisa was left alone in the corridor. She had to find a way to get to Obi-Wan. But how does one go against the Jedi? She couldn't deceive them - their damned Force would most likely alert them to her deception. She could try to lure them away, but she was almost certain they wouldn't rise to the bait. So what to do? 

She leaned against a window frame, looking out into the blue sky that was never dark. A casual observer might have thought she was enjoying a panorama that opened from the large window. But she wasn't interested in the urbanistic sight. Her mind was working hard, seeking solutions, then discarding them one by one. 

She sighed, rubbing her forehead wearily. Was there nothing she could do? Maybe she should simply give up, steeling herself for the inevitable madness. But she never was one to give up so easily. 

Who could confront a Jedi? Only another Jedi. Or… EX-JEDI! She breathed in relief. Of course, that's the solution. Very conveniently she happened to know one ex-Jedi. She turned away from the window and headed to the public comm. center. She might be starting to go insane but the part of her mind that was still thinking rationally warned her to not go to her own quarters. What if Arones had sent someone there to kill her? She didn't want to find out. Especially now that she had a solution to her little problem.

*****************

Standing on a landing platform, Qui-Gon hailed an air taxi. Though he was physically here, in his mind he was not. His thoughts still lingered in the medical room – with Obi-Wan. How was he doing? Qui-Gon could still feel the presence in the Force that was his Padawan's, though it was pretty much muted by the shields that he had thrown up around himself and dimmed by the pain that apparently still held the boy in its malevolent clutches. Qui-Gon could only sigh at the efforts Obi-Wan made to protect  _him_ . He admired the courage of the eighteen-year-old who chose to stay alone in his mind, enduring the agony his body was obviously consumed by, but spare his Master from even the echo of that torment. Yet he felt helpless and guilty at being unable if not to help then to at least share in Obi-Wan's suffering. 

Getting into the air taxi, Qui-Gon had to forcefully shake himself out of his grim thoughts when the driver asked him where to go. The Jedi gave him the address the medic had provided him with.

"Hey, man, I'm not going there," the driver exclaimed as soon as he heard the address, shaking his head frantically and showing all other signs of nervousness.

"And why is that?" the Jedi Master asked calmly, though on the inside he wanted to yell at the driver to go where he was told or throw the driver out and fly the speeder himself.

"Are you kidding? I'm not going to the Devil's House! I don't want to be eaten alive!" The driver seemed to get more agitated with each passing second.

"Eaten?" For a moment Qui-Gon thought that maybe this man was a former patient of that very same house. "I thought it was a madhouse," he added, trying to sound as friendly as possible in case his weird assumption was true.  _Where in the blazes is that medic sending me?!_

"Yeah, a madhouse, where they eat people." The driver looked at Qui-Gon suspiciously. "Are you one of them?" he suddenly asked in a menacing tone, straightening obviously trying to look more intimidating. "Get out of my taxi!"

 _This is insanity. _ Qui-Gon thought in dismay. He briefly considered mind-tricking the driver, but the man was too focused on his fear – and Qui-Gon himself was too worried for Obi-Wan – for the mind-trick to work. Instead the Jedi tried to feign as peaceful an expression on his face as he could muster with all the confusion and sense of urgency that were boiling inside him. 

"All right then. Get me to the nearest place to it you can. I'll pay you double price."

Apparently the driver was not insane after all, for his eyes lit up at the mention of double price. "Sure, man." His voice was filled with greed. Qui-Gon only sighed and shook his head. The air taxi shot up from the landing platform and into the sky. 

Half an hour later the same air taxi left the line of traffic and headed to one of the landing platforms in another district of the city. Here, the buildings were not so shining and tall as in the business district, sometimes even showing signs of poverty and untidiness. The air taxi landed on one of the lower levels. Unlike Coruscant this city's lower levels were inhabited by not only scum, but also by decent people who simply couldn't afford living on the upper levels. The city was much younger and hadn't yet acquired the menacing and shadowed atmosphere of Coruscant's underbelly. Besides, in contrast to the never-ending night in the lower levels of a famous city-planet here reigned the never-ending day. But the city promised to become, if not as overpopulated as Coruscant, then at least as polluted. 

Giving the driver due money, Qui-Gon got out of the air taxi. Creatures of random species roamed the streets, moving around with no apparent pattern, seemingly having nothing else to do. The houses here were mostly shabby and dirty. Qui-Gon looked around in confusion, seeing nothing even vaguely resemble what he was looking for. Suddenly he heard a roar of engines as the air taxi sped away from him.

 _So nice of him_,  Qui-Gon thought sarcastically, brushing a hand through his hair tiredly. He noticed an old man a few steps away watching him peculiarly. Deciding to try his luck, Qui-Gon quickly approached the man whose clothes clearly had seen better days.

"Sir, could you tell me please where the Woland's House is?" He asked the man politely, looking down at him. The man seemed to be taken aback at being addressed as 'sir', but he quickly hid his surprise.

"Devil's House," the man repeated knowingly.  _And this one, too_,  Qui-Gon thought feeling irritation rising in him. "You are not from here," the man said, looking up and down Qui-Gon with an appraising look; and noticing, apparently, Qui-Gon's frown at how he had called the establishment. 

"No, I'm not. But I need to find that house."

"And what do you want with the servant of Devil?" the man asked, looking at the tall Master with curiosity and pity written all over his face his wrinkled face.

"Look, I don't know what devil has to do with all this!" Qui-Gon realized he was on the verge of exploding and took a few deep, calming breaths. "I just need to meet with the owner of that house," he continued in a more composed voice, folding his hands before him.

"Well, the Devil has much to do with this as Woland is a name of Devil. I see real need in your eyes. Follow me and I'll show you the way there." The man started to walk with Qui-Gon following him.

****************

Obi-Wan saw tears well up in Qui-Gon's eyes. _His Master, crying? _This was not right. He could feel consciousness slipping away from him slowly but steadily, hurt clouding the world around him with hazy mist, stealing details from his vision. Despite the pain that rocked his whole body, twisting his innards into knots of agony, he tried to console Qui-Gon, to say everything was going to be all right. Even if he didn't believe it himself. The Master shouldn't cry. Seeing a desperate and desolate expression on Qui-Gon's face made his heart ache, bringing more torment than any physical pain ever could. His lips felt swollen; he could barely move them. Closing his eyes, he brought all his will into the simple action of speech. Still all he managed to say was: "Master!" 

The effort drained him. Blood thundered in his ears, blocking any outside sounds. He felt Qui-Gon's breath on his skin – stabbing hot – Qui-Gon was whispering something. With an effort that brought new anguish, Obi-Wan opened his eyes to look at his father. Qui-Gon's face was distorted in Obi-Wan's failing vision and he strained to see clearer, at least this one time. What if he was never able to see him again? The thought brought inexplicable agony. Never seeing Qui-Gon again was worse than dying. 

He didn't want to die, but if that was his fate, he would accept it like a Jedi. He wouldn't whine and complain. Obi-Wan only wanted for Qui-Gon to know how much he loved him. He couldn't say it though for his strength was all but depleted, all energy fled from his ailing body that was slowly shutting down. He couldn't even feel his body any more – just excruciating pain. Vaguely he remembered Qui-Gon once telling him jokingly that one could easily read his soul in his eyes. Now he hoped it was true – he hoped he could convey his love, his gratitude for the man through his eyes.

Cold tendrils of pain licked at his brain, quickly turning into white-hot waves, and he closed his eyes at this new torture. He couldn't let Qui-Gon see this, as much as he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore. Some things seemed to reach for Obi-Wan's brain – things like shaggy spider's paws. They blindly searched for him, trying to clutch him. He recoiled in disgust. Still they grabbed him, encircling his mind in a hideous pulsing knot of paws. Obi-Wan cried out as they started to press in on his brain, suffocating him, squeezing the life out of him. Sharp needles cut into him, piercing his very essence. He whimpered inaudibly for he had no voice left.

Ominous darkness was all around him – never-ending, ubiquitous. He didn't know whether his eyes were open or closed or if he even had them. He couldn't feel anything aside the throbbing pain that had extended all over his body and consciousness, wrenching his soul. A quivering sob escaped his parted dry lips. What was this? What had he done to deserve such agony?  

******************


	13. Chapter 13

Don't worry, **Cerasi5**, those words were definitely not addressed to you. Thank you reviewing ;)

Thanks, **TallyG**. Keep reading, I promise it'll get more interesting. And poor kid already got enough without you smacking him :D

**Maygin**, thank you again for the long review, you seem to like writing them :) And I like reading them. Just to make it clear: Tarlott "this dude at the devils house" is its owner ;) As for spiders, you know, I hate them, too. Yes, Anisa is in conflict indeed. We'll see where she comes with it in the end.

Thank you, **Harriet**. And I'm going to provide you with more.

~*~*~*~*~

Sitting at a spaceport, waiting for the right ship to arrive was like being in hell. Anisa drummed her fingers on the arms of her chair impatiently and bit her lip. Why was it taking this long? She glanced at a wall chrono. As if to mock her, the chrono showed that two minutes have passed since the last time she checked. She growled quietly. 

The ex-Jedi should arrive soon. She just needed to wait a little longer. _How long?! Where the hell is he?_ She suddenly noticed that she had leapt up from her chair in her impatience. She sighed and sunk back into the chair. The wait was eating away at her nerves that were already quite frazzled from her inability to get to Obi-Wan immediately. 

People were giving her weird looks. Apparently she didn't look too good, but that was the least of her concerns. She noticed a group of little girls pointing their fingers at her and made a face at them. They giggled though _she_ was feeling far from laughing. A woman came to the group of girls, throwing wary glances at Anisa, apparently worried by the somewhat insane twinkle in her eyes. The woman gathered few bags and led the girls away. 

Two more minutes have passed. She rubbed her forehead angrily. She was almost ready to attack someone just to stop this boring endless waiting.

"Are you waiting for me?" 

A voice from behind startled her. She quickly turned to look at its owner. A human male with blond hair and steely-gray eyes. She once fell for him but quickly learned to not mess with him. A dangerous person. 

"What took you so long?" she almost snapped. Then seeing his eyes narrowing dangerously, she quickly schooled her features into a pleasant smile. "Glad to see you again, Chebura." Yes, Chebura Snadi was definitely not a person to cross. He smiled back at her thinly.

"So what was this business you wanted to discuss?" he asked, slipping his arm around hers and starting to walk toward the spaceport's exit.

"I heard rumors that you wanted to find an apprentice," she replied vaguely.

"So what if those rumors were true?" he asked in kind.

"Supposedly I have a candidate for this role."

"Hm, and what do you want in exchange?" He looked at her suspiciously.

"I need to get to a young man, who is at the hospital right now. The problem is his Jedi Master and another apprentice guard him. How you call them… ah, Padawans. You get that other Padawan and I get the one I need." She was a little wary telling him this. After all, she wasn't all that sure he was trustworthy. But she was desperate to get to Obi-Wan, and so she was willing to take the risk.

"Your offer seems rather… interesting to me. Let's see what I can do."

Anisa could see a sparkle of interest and something - glee, maybe - glow in his steely eyes. Together, they got into an air taxi that took them to the hospital.

****************

Qui-Gon was still wondering how he'd managed to persuade Rahe Tarlott to come with him. At first the man had been very reluctant to leave his establishment, saying he knew nothing and wanted to have nothing to do with anything. But eventually he agreed to go with the Jedi, insisting that they take his own air car, refusing to hire an air taxi.

Qui-Gon glanced at the man, who was sitting next to him on the back seat of the car painted blue and yellow. Tarlott was a man appearing to be in his early thirties. This surprised Qui-Gon, who had been expecting an old professor with a devilish appearance, considering all that he had heard about the place and Tarlott himself. The old man, who had volunteered to show Qui-Gon the way to the Woland's House, took it upon himself to fill the Master in on the local rumors concerning the infamous madhouse. In the man's words, Tarlott was the devil's servant, who took some of his patients and ate them. Of course, Qui-Gon didn't believe any of these for a second. Even when the old man pointed out to him that some of the patients mysteriously disappeared at times. 

Tarlott seemed to be a little shy, with his hands shivering out of nerves. He had large gray restless eyes - they never seemed to stop moving. His head, which had a form of an egg, was covered with a thick cap of tousled dark hair. He wasn't tall, and could easily be confused with an adolescent. He made an impression of an eccentric person. When Qui-Gon asked him why his madhouse was called so - it couldn't be because the man liked all the rumors about himself and his establishment - Tarlott said that in a way it was some sort of a joke. Qui-Gon only shrugged. 

At first he had wanted to get rid of the Jedi Master as quickly as possible. But, apparently he had some compassion in him, and it had eventually won. Now the man's personal driver was flying the blue and yellow car through the dense but strictly regulated lines of traffic. The driver obviously knew the city well for they soon reached their destination. _Much sooner than it took the air taxi driver to get to that district_. Qui-Gon noted. 

They entered the room where Obi-Wan lay unconscious, to find everything to be the same as it had been when Qui-Gon left. His heart contracted painfully when he looked at Obi-Wan. The boy seemed to be sleeping. Qui-Gon caught himself expecting the padawan to open one sleepy eye and say something like: "Just one more minute, Master." He often did that in the morning. But the unnatural pallor of the boy's face, his still features, drawn in a slumber of near-death, visibly reminded Qui-Gon of the treacherous situation.

Kamon shifted his eyes, full of worry, up to look into Qui-Gon's. The Master did all he could to appear hopeful and reassuring. On the inside, however, he was afraid to let his hopes soar, afraid they would be squashed. No, he wouldn't let himself think that.

Tarlott crossed the room to the bed and looked Obi-Wan over with an expert eyes.

"You are very lucky, Mr. Jinn," he said, visibly satisfied with his examination. "It is very unusual for a victim of a soulhunter to live this long. You are very, very lucky…"

Seeing that the man could go on forever, Qui-Gon interrupted him. "Do you know how to help him?" he asked, somewhat impatiently. Kamon glanced at the older Jedi then fixed his eyes on Tarlott.

"Yes, I can help him," Tarlott said confidently. "But I can't guarantee anything. He might be too far gone," he added hastily. 

"Then do what you can." Qui-Gon started to loose his patience. Here was the man who could help, yet he was wasting time talking.

"Of course, of course. But I need you to go out of the room. All of you." He swept his eyes over the two Jedi and Namira.

Kamon rose from his seat near the bed. The girl followed suit. Qui-Gon fixed a hard stare on Tarlott.

"Don't you harm him." A note of warning slipped into his voice. He wanted to trust the man but found that he could not. Tarlott seemed to cringe under the Master's stare. 

Walking past Tarlott, Qui-Gon made his way to the bed. He took in the still form of his apprentice, as though trying to memorize each feature. He gently brushed Obi-Wan's hair and leaned to kiss him on the forehead. Tears brimmed in his eyes, and he felt his throat tighten.

"Obi-Wan, please, don't leave me," he whispered with a hoarse voice. Straightening, he turned and left the room, knowing that Kamon and Namira were following him. 

Once the door closed behind him, he sank heavily into the chair, determined to wait as long as needed. Kamon looked at him worriedly.

"He will be fine, right?" he asked, somewhat shakily. Qui-Gon turned to regard him. 

"Right," he said after a moment of silence. A thought flashed in his mind.  _Why is it always Obi-Wan? There are two padawans of the same age, almost equal. But it's Obi-Wan who gets hurt. Why?_  But there was no answer. Ashamed by the thought, Qui-Gon quickly banished it. What would have changed if it were Kamon who got hurt? Surely Qui-Gon didn't wish such fate befall another. He just wished it didn't befall his own padawan, either.

Qui-Gon's mind turned to memories he had about Obi-Wan and himself. He remembered Obi-Wan's smile. When they just started on the road as a Master and a Padawan, the smile had been timid, probing. Now, it was open and bright. Whenever it appeared, it shed light on everything like a sun. He remembered their missions; and their free time together. They were so much more than just Master and apprentice. They were a family…

A sharp, stabbing pain brought Qui-Gon out of his reverie. He gasped for breath, feeling the Force and his heart scream at him in alarm.

"Obi-Wan!"

Qui-Gon climbed onto his feet shakily when a new wave of pain overtook him. Then something strained inside him and snapped with a thundering ringing. Swaying on his legs Qui-Gon dashed to the adjoining room. He rushed through the door as a whirlwind. 

"What happened?" he roared.

Surprise showed briefly on Tarlott's face - Qui-Gon couldn't know that something was wrong - but it was quickly replaced by fear, bordering with panic.

"I… I… He… err…" Tarlott mumbled, trying to back away from the furious Master. 

"What have you done?"

**********************

Pain. Why was he still feeling pain? He should have long since blacked out. But the merciful darkness of oblivion was lurking somewhere on the periphery of his consciousness, sticking its tongue out at him, mocking him. He would have embraced it gladly - he would have done anything - to get rid of this horrible agony that his body and soul were submerged into. He wished he could die right now just to stop the torture that was tearing apart every cell of his body.

He would have cried, but he didn't have the strength to do even that. Silently, he pleaded the Force to stop it. Maybe the Force heard his pleas - or maybe it was something else entirely - but the pain started to lessen. He breathed hungrily, feeling the strain leave his body and consciousness

The pain had subsided and after a short time disappeared completely, leaving only a memory of the agony he had been through. Obi-Wan opened his eyes to find out that all he could see was thick gray mist, flowing around him, swirling around without a break. He blinked a few times, trying to clear his vision, but it proved to be futile, for there was nothing to see in the land of emptiness. 

 _Where am I?_  he wondered, turning around slowly. Still, all he saw was that heavy mist: thick like a cloak, moving, almost alive.  _Gray. What a pleasant colour, indeed._  From his early childhood Obi-Wan had strongly disliked gray colour, though he could never understand why. Now it seemed like someone had stolen this little bit of information out of his mind to laugh at him.  _Very funny_.  He thought sardonically, feeling unnerved, but trying to hide it - although there was no one to hide it from, no living form, except… Obi-Wan squinted suspiciously at the mist. 

He strained his senses, trying to find anything here, anything at all.  _It can't be just emptiness. Surely, there must be something out here._  Then he felt it. It took him some time to realize what he was feeling. He could feel a link - an old one - connecting him to his Master - initiated a long time ago, but alive and vibrant in the sticky depths of the mist. Strangely enough, he could not only feel it like he always had. 

He could see it now - a woven thread of glowing matter, almost substantial. Shimmering warm, stretching from the place he stood far into the mist. But he knew without any doubt that it was connected to Qui-Gon on the other end. The knowledge soothed him like a cool wind on a hot day. 

Suddenly his ears perked. What was that sound? With a surprise he realized that he could hear the bond. It produced a low, barely audible hum, incoherent yet melodic in its own way, filling the place - otherwise devoid of sound - with gentle music. It reminded him of Qui-Gon's voice, the voice he could have heard through the bond. But the bond was blocked now. He had blocked it, and, though he missed Qui-Gon's intense and vivid presence in his mind greatly, he didn't regret blocking the bond. He smiled, listening to the bond's singing. Yes, it was singing to him, singing of care and love. He would tell Qui-Gon the bond was singing… that is if he ever saw him again. His smile faded, a frown taking its place.

Then he felt another bond. Stepping cautiously onto the ground that he could not see, he came to the bond, scrutinizing it carefully. This one was new. It didn't glow like the bond with Qui-Gon, and, by its appearance, it looked like made of paristeel. It didn't produce any sound. Obi-Wan reached out to touch it, but quickly drew his hand back as angry cold pierced his skin. He was not aware he had a connection like this.  _Who might it lead to? _ He wondered. As if on cue, a name popped up in his mind: Anisa. This bond connected him to her. He shivered. 

He was still scrutinizing the bond, trying to figure out how to disconnect it, when something imperceptible changed. The change was so subtle that he didn't notice it at first. But then… 

A roar filled his ears, impudently demanding his attention. Obi-Wan looked around in alarm to see the mist starting to swirl aggressively, reminding him of a snake readying itself to attack. Black turbulence appeared around the steely bond, licking at it, swaying in a dangerous motion. Obi-Wan watched, hypnotized. 

The bond writhed under the black tendrils of unknown power, and then, with a deafening crash, it broke. A sudden wind knocked Obi-Wan down, and he tumbled backwards. Shakily he rose to his feet to find with horror that now the black tendrils were licking at the bond with Qui-Gon. 

"No!!!" He cried, running to it in a desperate attempt to do something.

But it was too late. Wild, uncontrollable wind knocked him down again as the bond tore with a shout that sounded almost like Qui-Gon's. And then… then the tendrils reached for him. He backed away from them, trying unsuccessfully to get onto his feet. But the relentless tendrils of swirling black power reached him, enveloped him in their dark embrace. The world stopped to exist.

****************


	14. Chapter 14

Thank you, **Faye Dartmouth**. I'm glad you like the story so much ;)

Don't you worry, **Callista Malone**, I'm going to finish this story. I don't like leaving anything unfinished. Thank you for the review :)

Thank you for the praise, **Catspaw**. No, I never saw Babylon 5. My idea of soulhuhunters comes from completely another place. Unfortunately, grammar is not my strong point. That's what beta-reader is for. But sometimes we both miss something.

Thank you, **Cerasi5**. I'm trying hard to improve. 

I'm glad you like the bonds' description, **Athena Leigh**. Thank you for the review.

Thanks, **TallyG**. Guess after this fic Obi would need much more than an ice pack and the card :D

Many of you seem to like my descriptions, so I suggest you try my two short stories. They're on my profile. I guess you'll like them. But I must warn you that both stories are sad.

Now on to the story.

~*~*~*~*~

"What have you done?" Qui-Gon couldn't keep the desperation and anger from filling his voice.  _If Tarlott hurt Obi-Wan - I would… If Obi-Wan…_  Qui-Gon found he could not complete the thought.

"I… um… wait… I…" The man backed from the furious Jedi Master, shaking and mumbling in fear. No coherent word left his mouth.

Qui-Gon made a step forward. Tarlott backed further, stumbling over a chair. With a shrill clang, the chair flew to the side, tipping over a low table with medical instruments. The instruments scattered around the room in a loud clatter. Tarlott kneeled and started to gather the instruments with shaking hands, trying to keep as far away from Qui-Gon as possible. The Jedi took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, but the breath hitched in his throat as his eyes fell onto Obi-Wan, and he coughed. 

"What happened?" Qui-Gon asked again, hoarsely. Tarlott looked up at him with wide eyes.

"I… I didn't mean to… He just…" He climbed back onto his feet, putting, or rather dropping, the instruments onto another table. 

Qui-Gon, irritated by Tarlott's incoherent mumbling, took the man by the shoulders and shook him. Tarlott's eyes, full of panic, fixed on him, then suddenly darted to look behind Qui-Gon, widening - if that was possible - even more. Qui-Gon jerked his head to look back as well. What he saw made his heart miss a beat. Obi-Wan was sitting upright on the bed, staring at them. A hot wave of happiness washed over Qui-Gon, making his heart leap in joy. He dropped Tarlott and hurried to his Padawan.

He sat onto the chair beside the bed, as close to Obi-Wan as he could get, and took one of Obi-Wan's hands in his larger ones. The boy's eyes moved to stare at him, but something in their blue-green depth made Qui-Gon frown.

"Obi-Wan," he ventured carefully, rubbing the boy's still cold hands soothingly. 

The Padawan didn't even stir, continuing to stare at his Master. Nothing changed in his eyes. It seemed Obi-Wan didn't recognize Qui-Gon. 

"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon asked softly, feeling cold tendrils of fear creep up his spine, as a sense of dread settled in his gut.

Obi-Wan didn't answer.

Qui-Gon raised his hand and waved it in front of Obi-Wan's face. The boy followed the hand with his eyes. Qui-Gon relaxed slightly.

"Padawan, please, _talk to me_." A tinge of plea crept into the Master's voice.

Obi-Wan's eyes returned to his face. But the younger Jedi was still dead silent.

"Obi-Wan, do you recognize me?" Qui-Gon asked, feeling his innards twist into tight nods. 

"Yes."

Qui-Gon almost jumped at the sound of Obi-Wan's voice. Then he heaved a huge sigh of relief, feeling tension start to leave his body.

"Thank the Force!" Qui-Gon drew Obi-Wan to himself and hugged him tightly. The boy didn't resist but didn't respond either. Qui-Gon pulled back slightly to look at his Padawan's face.

"How do you feel?" he asked worriedly.

"Fine."

Qui-Gon's back went rigid at the reply. Obi-Wan's voice sounded lifeless, somehow… mechanical. Droids might talk like this but not living people. Qui-Gon pulled back even more, almost falling into the chair. He examined his Padawan carefully. The boy was still pale. He sat straight, staring ahead of him with empty eyes.

His eyes.

The spark that was usually there, colouring them, playing in their depth, was gone now. Now they were eyes of a dummy. This was not _his_ Obi-Wan. This was…

"What have you done to him?" Qui-Gon asked in a weary voice, suddenly feeling as though the weight of a galaxy had been placed upon his shoulders.

"Um, well, you see, a soulhunter has formed a link with him," Tarlott came closer to the bed, throwing sidelong wary glances at Qui-Gon. "I tried to break that link and…" He looked into Obi-Wan's eyes and shivered. "I'm sorry, I seem to have broken the link, tying his soul to his body as well."

He was avoiding looking at Qui-Gon, apparently, afraid of the Master's fury. But the Jedi could no longer feel anger. Tarlott finally turned to look at Qui-Gon, and the Master was struck by the pity he saw in the man's eyes.

"But if his soul is no longer there why is he still alive?" Qui-Gon felt like someone else was talking for him. He was just a detached observer, watching all this ridiculous performance unfold before his eyes.  _This can't be happening! _

Tarlott lowered himself heavily onto the nearby chair. "Not all of his soul is gone…"

Qui-Gon felt hope rise in him. Maybe everything could be all right after all?

"…just the part that is his real self."

The hope plummeted to the floor to shatter into million brilliant splinters with a distinguishable sound of a breaking glass. Qui-Gon dropped his head into his hands.

Obi-Wan continued to stare into nothingness with the glassy eyes of a lifeless doll.

********************

Anisa watched the traffic and buildings zip past her in an endless whirlpool of the big city's life. The air taxi she was sitting in flew with a dizzying speed, faster than normal - but still not fast enough for her. She was impatient to get to Obi-Wan; she needed to get to him now, or…

Anisa threw a quick sidelong glance at Snadi. The ex-Jedi was sitting straight, looking indifferently out of the air taxi's window. His face was bearing an expression of boredom. Apparently, the view made no impression on him.  _Calm. He's calm. But why shouldn't he be? He has nothing to worry about…_  Anisa thought, clasping her hands tightly. She briefly wondered why his composed face evoked such jealousy and anger in her that she wanted to hit him. She clasped her hands even tighter, hoping he hadn't heard her thoughts.

A tall, shining with multiple windows, building - their destination - loomed ahead. They were approaching quickly. Anisa sighed in relief.  _Soon_.  Waiting was becoming harder with every moment. She feared she would do something stupid if she had to wait much longer.

Suddenly a tearing pain shot through her brain like a sharp needle. She clutched her head with both hands, trying to drive the pain away.  _This is no simple headache._ She thought, almost detached. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Snadi turn to her, obviously wondering what was wrong. Another burst of pain exploded in her head, and she moaned, burying her fingers in a mass of hair that escaped the hairpin she wore, and now hung loosely around her face. 

Her thoughts became fuzzy, disconnected, their shreds swimming around in her head. Her vision was clouded. Her mind was running in pained gloomy loops, asking itself what had happened over and over again. Then she felt like her brain had been ripped from her scull by some unknown and merciless force. She thought she felt someone's presence, but the sensation was dim, incoherent, lost in a haze of her own thoughts.

Black spots danced on the edge of her vision, expanding, impudent - they were claiming more and more of her field of vision. Until she could no longer see anything but blackness. Her head fell back limply as she succumbed to the darkness of unconsciousness. 

****************


	15. Chapter 15

Thank you, **Cerasi5**… again ;) Well, there's always a way to improve.

**TallyG**, yeah Qui-Gon's hopes seemed to go up and down quite a bit in the previous one :D

Now I will continue with the story.

~*~*~*~*~

An hour had passed since Obi-Wan had woken up. And he was still the same: unresponsive, staring straight ahead and seeing nothing. His eyes were glazed, mirroring the room around him but not mirroring his soul. He answered simple, straight questions when asked but otherwise didn't react to words - or to anything else for that matter. Qui-Gon was hoping that any moment Obi-Wan would look at him with his usual eyes, bright and full of life. But with each passing minute the hope slowly faded away into despair.

Kamon and Namira had left the medical center soon after Obi-Wan awoke. There was no reason for them to stay. And it was clearly very hard for them to see their friend in such a condition. Qui-Gon could barely stand it himself. It tore at his soul to see his Padawan - his son - so detached, devoid of his usual self.

Tarlott had stayed. He visibly shrank every time Qui-Gon glanced at him. The man was obviously distraught by what he had done, though he had done it inadvertently. And Qui-Gon wasn't about to alleviate his burden. He found himself thinking that the man deserved this and much more for the doing of his hands. Blind rage rose in Qui-Gon, a dark bottomless feeling from the pit of his stomach. Fury.

With an effort Qui-Gon suppressed the feeling. He couldn't let himself feel like this. This was unbecoming of a Jedi, and Qui-Gon felt ashamed. He quelled his rage and bitterness. Still he couldn't help thinking that if not for Tarlott Obi-Wan wouldn't have been in this appalling condition now.  _Yeah, he would have been dead,_  a voice whispered in Qui-Gon's mind. A voice that used to be his own. 

Qui-Gon's comlink suddenly buzzed, startling the Master and Tarlott, who jerked and looked at Qui-Gon. 

"Jinn here," the Jedi said, picking the comlink up.

"Master Jinn, come up here, into my office," the distressed voice of Arones almost screamed into the device. "Something horrible has happened." Qui-Gon could hear the frightened, hysterical notes in the man's voice. This was so unusual and uncharacteristical for Arones that Qui-Gon immediately knew something was very wrong.

_Why does everything happen in the most inconvenient of times? _ Qui-Gon wondered grimly. 

His duty as a Jedi was to protect Arones and to find out what was wrong. But that meant he would have to leave Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon looked again at the boy who was staring absently into the wall. How could he leave him now? 

"Did you think of anything yet?" Qui-Gon asked Tarlott.

"I… No, I'm afraid, not," Tarlott looked apologetical.

Qui-Gon sighed heavily and turned back to Obi-Wan. He took the youth's hand in his and squeezed it slightly. Holding his breath, he waited for a response, but none came. 

"There must be something," Qui-Gon said to no one in particular. Tarlott looked at his hands. "There  **must**  be. Anything." Qui-Gon didn't want to give up. In some way, having Obi-Wan like this was even worse than loosing him. Or maybe not. 

And now he will have to leave Obi-Wan alone to go find out what had happened up there. The Force was telling him that what happened was very important. He had to go. 

But Obi-Wan! Qui-Gon was torn. The Force was telling him to go, but Obi-Wan needed him here. Should he heed the Force's bidding or should he listen to his heart? He didn't know.

Finally he made up his mind. With great reluctance, he stood from his chair. He looked into Obi-Wan's eyes, hoping beyond hope that the boy would recognize him. But there was no miracle.

"Obi-Wan… Padawan, I need to go away for a little while," Qui-Gon didn't know if Obi-Wan understood what he was saying, but he needed to explain it to him anyway. He simply could not leave without telling him. "I'll be back soon." He put both hands onto Obi-Wan's shoulders, then hugged him. To his surprise and incredible joy the boy hugged him back. Qui-Gon's hope soared into the sky…

… only to be smashed into billion pieces when he looked into Obi-Wan's eyes. They were as empty as they had been since the Padawan woke up. Feeling tears burn his eyes, asking to be shed, he turned away, unable to look at Obi-Wan anymore. 

"Look after him," the Master told Tarlott. If anything happens to him…" He left the end of the sentence hanging, not wanting to threaten the already scared man.

Tarlott nodded in understanding. Without any other word Qui-Gon left the room, striving to get over with whatever it was as quickly as possible.

****************

He opened his eyes to look around. Where was he? Who was he? He didn't know. There was no one to ask. He was alone here. Here? This place wasn't anything like one that he thought could exist. Nothing was around him. Pure void. In some sense he wasn't here, either. But he was here; where else could he be anyway?

He vaguely remembered the mist - gray mist. But this 'place' was empty. Not even the mist was here. And this void was much worse than any mist. The emptiness here was unfamiliar and hostile. It didn't like the intruder. The place wasn't dark, but wasn't light either. Nothing filled it.

Utter loneliness. He wanted to scream, to tear this cloud of nothingness into shreds with his voice, but no sound existed in this place. He wanted to move, to run - but there was nothing real around him, and he himself wasn't real. He should have had a body, yet by the joke of some force he didn't have it.

Force? Yes, the Force. It was supposed to be with him even when everything else abandoned him. The Force! Such a familiar word. It brought warmth and comfort. Safety. Memory... no, there was no memory, only confusion. And loneliness.

He could see in any direction around him, but there was nothing to see. Virtually nothing. Nothing to see. Nothing to hear. Nothing to feel. 

He suddenly felt like he was being watched. He felt like someone very old - as old as eternity itself - and cynical watched him with cold interest. Fear gripped him. Erratic memories and thoughts - he could not tell which was which - swarmed in his head, but not one of them answered any question. He couldn't remember his name, he didn't know who he was or where he had come from. 

Maybe he had spent all of his life here? Perhaps there was no way out. If he had a body, he would have sat down in defeat, although there was nothing to sit on. The void stretched beneath him and above him just like it did to the right and left, ahead and behind, of him. It was simply everywhere.

He thought he saw something flicker in the distance. He strained to see what it was. Hope surged through him. There was a glow - in the distance so great that the light was almost impossible to discern, yet it was there. A small dapple of hope. With all his being he reached for that light. Whatever it was - he didn't care - he wanted to get to it. Maybe there was something more than emptiness here. The light seemed to come closer, grow brighter and larger. But then it dimmed, and before he could reach it, flickered out of existence. 

Hopeless. 

Cold and empty was this place.

Cold and empty did he feel.

Cold, empty, and alone. 

Totally, completely alone.

*********************************


	16. Chapter 16

Thanks, **TallyG**. And here's the next chapter ;-) 
    
    Thank you, **Cerasi5**. Hopefully you'll like this chapter, too. 
    
    _"It's nice to know that you are indeed human!"_ – and who did you think I was? Yoda? :-))))
    ~*~*~*~*~
    

Qui-Gon used a turbolift to get to Arones' apartment, but the 'lift seemed to go too slowly for the Jedi's liking. Unusually impatient, the Master was thinking that maybe he should have taken the stairs instead. He paced the small elevator like a lion in a cage. Not that he wanted to get to Arones' office faster; he wanted to get back to Obi-Wan faster. _And this damned lift is crawling like an ill Hutt!_

After what felt like eternity to Qui-Gon, the 'lift stopped, and the doors opened. Qui-Gon exited the 'lift and strode down the hall, pushing aside his worries and draping himself into an air of professionalism as he went. Internal conflict was still raging inside him, but he wasn't the one to change his decisions once they were made. 

The doors to Arones' apartment were wide open, and muffled sounds of hysterics were coming through. Qui-Gon sped up a bit. A middle-aged woman suddenly came rushing out the door. Her eyes were red and puffy, obviously from crying. Nearly bumping into Qui-Gon, she stopped and raised her teary eyes at the Jedi. 

"Oh, sorry…" she stammered, her voice quivering. Her face was pale and drawn with tear-streaks trailing down her wet cheeks. 

With a muffled sob, she rushed past Qui-Gon. He stared after her, but she had already disappeared behind one of the doors that were lining the corridor's walls. Shrugging, Qui-Gon continued onward. When he reached the open doors, he was greeted by a weird sight: the usually tidy office had been turned virtually upside down. A few chairs were lying on the floor, one of them broken; datapads were scattered all over the place. Pieces of a broken vase were glittering under the sunrays, creating a sparkling jigsaw of all colours of a rainbow on the floor. 

In the middle of this mayhem on the table sat a young woman. Her face was buried in her hands, which were obscured by a mass of pale blond hair, hanging loosely at both sides of her face. Her fragile shoulders were jerking from crying. Arones stood next to her with his back to the door, apparently trying to console her, though without much success. 

Qui-Gon took in the whole scene with one quick sweeping look. Then he stepped into the office. 

"Mr. Arones," he said in a slightly questioning tone. 

The man turned to regard the Master. 

Arones looked worn out: his dark hair was disheveled; his eyes were red rimmed. Whatever had happened here had affected him, too. 

"Master Jinn, it's awful," he said, his voice shaky with emotion. He turned to the woman on the table. "Maira, please go to Karitu. I need to talk with Master Jinn privately". 

The woman nodded, sobbing, and slipped from the tabletop, making her way to the door on unsteady legs. At the door she paused briefly, turning to look at Arones, then fled the room. The two men were left alone. 

Arones leaned against the table and looked at Qui-Gon. The Jedi stood silently, waiting for the other to speak. 

"Two of my aides… They…" Arones paused, apparently unable to get the words out of his mouth. He rubbed his forehead, then continued. "They are dead. Maira found them… It's horrible!" Something flickered in his eyes, but it was gone before Qui-Gon could guess what it could be. 

"Where are they? I'd like to take a look at them," Qui-Gon said, trying to make his voice sound compassionate and professional at the same time. 

"Oh, yes… they are over there," Arones waved his hand in the direction of a closed door at the far end of the large room. He stood and started to walk to the door. "I locked it so no one could touch anything," he said, pulling a bunch of keys from his pocket. 

"Did you call police?" Qui-Gon asked, following the man. 

"Yes, yes, I did. They will be here soon. But I thought it would be better if you looked at them first." With these words Arones unlocked the door to the small adjoining room. He waved his hand, inviting Qui-Gon to look inside, but the Master was watching him instead. 

Something was not right with the man. Of course, his eyes were red, his face wore a stricken and grievous expression plastered on it, but… There was a particular sparkle in his eyes, something well hidden - yet slightly visible - that made Qui-Gon doubt sincerity of his grief. _Either I'm seeing things that are not there, or he's an extremely good actor,_ he thought. 

Diverting his attention from Arones, Qui-Gon looked at the scene that unfolded before him. No wonder the women had been so frightened and shocked. The scene made even the experienced Jedi Master cringe. A rather small room, used apparently for rest and relaxing, had been virtually torn apart: all the windows gaped open; scarce furniture, blasted into scraps of wood and fabric, stood ajar. Formerly a comm. unit crackled on a low table, emitting acidic black smoke into the air of the room, already filled with destruction. 

In the middle of the room was what made this whole place seem to be a decoration for a horror-movie - remnants of a life-form… or two. Biting back the urge to vomit, Qui-Gon took a step to the bloody mess. On closer inspection it turned out to be all that remained from two Bothans, lying in a pool of their own blood. 

It looked as if a squadron had marched in here, blasting out of existence everything that was in its way. Qui-Gon glanced over his shoulder at Arones. The man was pale, but not too much. And again something flittered in his eyes - something unrecognizable, too fast to grasp. 

_I'll need to think on that later. And I definitely have to keep an eye on him_. Qui-Gon's thoughts were interrupted with a loud noise, coming from the corridor outside Arones' office. A few moments later three policemen entered the room. The presence of these common, grounded beings seemed to alleviate the atmosphere of mystery and intrigue in the room that had entirely too much of that. 

The policemen started their routine, paying to the bloody remnants on the floor only as much attention as their protocol told them. They asked some questions, not quite happy about the presence of a Jedi. Then they started to rummage through the room, occasionally asking Arones some questions and totally ignoring Qui-Gon. What the Master could not understand was why had Arones called him. Sure enough, police could handle this. 

"Mr. Arones," Deciding that the issue needed some clarification, Qui-Gon addressed the man who was hovering at the door, trying not to even look at the center of the small room. "Why did you call me? I don't see the reason for my presence here." 

Upon hearing these words Arones looked at Qui-Gon sharply, but then his angry look turned into one of fear and grief. 

"You see, I thought that maybe you could sense anything here," he waved his hand in the air, encompassing the room. "I heard the Jedi could tell what happened in the past…" 

_Another of those rumors_, Qui-Gon thought with dismay. 

"…And anyway you are meant to protect me, aren't you?" A sly intonation in his tone made Qui-Gon glare at him. 

"I believe my mission here implies that I am to watch over the course of the negotiations," he replied somewhat coldly. 

"Oh, but I talked to your Council, and they promised me you will protect me," Arones countered in an even more sly voice. 

_Thank you very much, Mace! Or whoever I need to thank for this_, Qui-Gon thought, starting to feel irritated at the whole situation. He already had a sick Padawan - well, not quite sick, but definitely one who needed to be watched over and taken care of. Guarding Arones was the last thing Qui-Gon wanted to have to do right now. In his worries for Obi-Wan and attempts to get him back, the Master didn't contact the Council in at least a couple of days. _Well, now I'll have to_… 

His thoughts were interrupted by a bellow from the Force, screaming at him to get to his apprentice immediately. Without as much as an explanation, Qui-Gon rushed out of the office and took off down the hall to the turbolifts. Arones stared after him dumbfounded. As soon as the Jedi disappeared from his line of view, a vile smile spread on his face. _Run, Master Jinn, run. You can't get there on time_. 

And Qui-Gon ran. 

He burst through the doors of the room where his Padawan was… was supposed to be. Qui-Gon stopped dead on his tracks. There was no trace of Obi-Wan in the white, sterile room. Its only occupant was currently lying on the floor with blood leaking from his head. Someone had hit Tarlott on the head and kidnapped Obi-Wan. 

***************** 

Anisa woke up to a splitting headache that was tearing her head like a mad rancor. She peeked warily from under her eyelashes. The world swirled around her in a whirlpool of bright spots - a dancing, flashing, dizzying vortex. She blinked a couple of times, still hiding her eyes under the eyelashes from stark light. It didn't help. Never one to delay the inevitable, she opened her eyes fully. 

The world exploded around her in a fury of brilliant colours. She moaned under the angry attack of the harsh light. The world of colourful hazy spots suddenly seemed so hostile - she felt defenseless, exposed, naked. She wanted to curl up and hide away from everything. 

She hadn't felt like this for a very long time - since she had been a little girl. She had accidentally wandered then into a faraway village, farther than she had ever come before. She hadn't known better, and when someone asked her where she had been from, she answered truthfully. Oh, how she had regretted it! She could still remember the looks of shock and disgust on the faces of those around her. 

How had she - a five-year-old girl - been able to understand why those people had been suddenly so angry with her? How was she supposed to have known that those people had thought soulhuntes were monsters, callous killers that had nothing in common with sentient beings? She had been helpless and terrified, trembling as they had glared at her as though she were an animal - wild, vile and extremely dangerous. 

But the worst came later. She couldn't clearly recall now how it had happened that she had been alone on the street, only that she had found herself being chased by a bunch of street-boys. The boys had been older and much taller than her, a lost, scared tiny five-year-old girl. She had run from them, silently as they had chased her with loud whistles and shouts, weak from fear. She hadn't been able to even scream in terror, choking on her breath, silently crying. Tears flowed down her face, stinging her eyes, wetting her cheeks. 

Her vision blurry, she hadn't been able to see anything, stumbling every now and then. But somehow she managed to spot a canopy of bushes sideways from the road she had been running down. She had dived into the thick shrubbery, curled in on herself and waited, trembling from fear, trying desperately to muffle the sobs that tore from her throat. She had been lying there like a little animal, waiting for the boys to hunt her down, and most likely beat her to death. 

And she had been like a little dirty animal - huddled in the bushes, shriveled to a ball of terror, cornered and ready to defend herself to death. The old woman who had found her - with large eyes that had glowed with compassion and kindness - took pity on small Anisa. She had talked gently to the petrified girl, calming her down. She had taken the much calmer girl to her house, had given her some food, then had ushered her back to her own village. Anisa never knew what happened to that woman later. But she still held the image of those eyes deep in her heart. 

And now she felt helpless again. She hated that feeling, wanted to never experience it again. Banishing the memory, Anisa gathered herself and looked around, trying to make out at least something. 

One of the blurry spots around her seemed to grow larger, obtain shape and texture. Anisa blinked, trying hard to bring her vision into focus. Finally, after several long, agonizing moments, the spot molded into the face of Snadi. 

"Ah, at last. I was starting to think you were going to play dead forever. Has something happened or have you just decided that you needed a nap?" Snadi asked mockingly. 

"Something _has_ happened," she replied, somewhat harshly, not bothering to sound polite. "What happened - is none of your business." _Now_ _he'll get offended and choke me to death,_ she thought sardonically, although she knew that at least a part of it might very well come true. But somehow she didn't care. 

She wasn't quite sincere - she herself didn't know what had happened that caused her pass out, but whatever it was, it had left her slightly dazed. She found she couldn't gather her thoughts, couldn't make them go straight - they kept fleeing from her. And even though her sight had returned, the edges of her vision remained fuzzy. 

She looked around her to clear her head a little. She saw that their air taxi was hovering outside the traffic line near one of the buildings. Apparently, when she fainted, Snadi had told the driver to get out of the traffic and wait for her to come around. 

"Okay, I'm fine now. We can proceed," she said exasperatedly, though she couldn't find the reason for her exasperation herself. 

Snadi motioned for the driver to start flying and leaned back casually. A nagging feeling tagged at Anisa's mind - something was not right with her. No, not wrong, just different. She thoroughly examined herself and… Obi-Wan! She sat up straight, making Snadi glare at her. The need for Obi-Wan's soul was gone - as was his presence in her mind.

She had never heard about such bonds to be broken, and whatever had happened took her by surprise. She wasn't sure if the lack of the bond - and her need for him - was a good thing or not. No, she didn't know it yet. 

The familiar building of the business-center was steadily coming closer. She was looking over its traditional outlines when an unusual commotion on one of the landing pads caught her attention. Squinting to take a better look, she watched two bulky men drag someone to an air car. With a sinking feeling in her stomach, she recognized the ginger hair and the braid. As she watched, the two men dumped the boy into the air car and jump into it themselves. The red air car swiftly took off from the landing pad. 

"After them!" Anisa cried, thrusting her hand at the direction of the fleeing air car. 

The driver obediently turned their green air car where Anisa showed. 

"Why are we chasing that air car?" Snadi asked with an obvious malice. 

_He must be thinking that I'm a crazed woman who doesn't know what she wants, rushing in different directions. But he can put his thoughts into…_ Anisa thought, hoping and fearing at the same time that Snadi heard her thoughts. 

"The Padawan we need is there," she said aloud, not letting her eyes leave the red air car ahead of them, lest she lose sight of it completely. 

"All right then," Snadi replied. He showed no outward sign of any excitement but out of the corner of her eye Anisa noticed that he leaned forward. 

The green air car chased the red one through the dense traffic of the large city. Unbeknownst to the occupants of the green air car a yellow one was following them. 

*******************


	17. Chapter 17

Thank you, **Cerasi5**. The update is here, though it's not too long. 

I'm afraid I can't tell you now if Obi lives or not, ***W I L L O W***. I don't know that myself yet. But I will take your wish into consideration ;-) Thank you for the review. 

Right, **TallyG**, poor kid. But its so much fun, don't you think :D 

~*~*~*~*~ 

The never-ending day blazed happily in the big city of planet Allura. Traffic flowed smoothly over the surface of the ground in an organized order of a bee beehive, penetrating the city in all directions on all levels. The even flow of the traffic was suddenly disrupted, broken, ripped apart by the three air cars - red, green and yellow. Three cars zipped past the tall polished buildings, disturbing the steady rumble of organized, common air cars by the shrill whine of their engines. 

Not surprisingly, the air police cars - yellow with red strips - soon showed up. They permeated the air with howling sounds of sirens. The boys on the streets were gawking at the unexpected and exciting show. 

Not that occupants of all the three chasing air cars knew that they were being followed, especially by police. The occupants of the first car had figured out they were being followed by the green car, but that was all they knew. Little did they know what an extensive retinue they had.

The occupants of the green car were more informed: they had noticed the bright commotion of police cars far behind them. But since the police was too far away from them they decided it had nothing to do with them. The driver of the car was hardly concentrating on the red car that loomed right in front of him - though not too close. Fortunately he was a very skilled driver - it was tricky to keep up with a constantly swiveling and wheeling, plunging and rising air car. In order to not loose the red car the green one was forced to repeat all the mad spins and twists the former made. 

The third air car was at a big disadvantage - its only occupant had to not only repeat all that the green car was doing, but also try to avoid police. That would've been an impossible task for anyone but a Jedi. Unfortunately the Jedi Master didn't know the city well, so he couldn't even find a shortcut, forced to follow blindly the car ahead of him. 

Qui-Gon steered his car forward and launched into yet another spin that ended in a narrow gorge between two buildings. With a loud shriek Qui-Gon's car scratched the wall. Leveling the car with an effort, the Master swore under his breath. He didn't like this at all. _At least now I've lost the police,_ he thought, wiping his brow. And luckily he didn't loose the sight of that green car he was so doggedly pursuing. He wasn't aware that there was the red car - and real kidnappers - ahead of him as well. 

What he was aware of was that Anisa and the driver weren't the only occupants of the green air car. There was someone else. And that someone was a Force-user - a dark Force-user. It distressed Qui-Gon, yet gave him some hope. He didn't like the thought of a dark Force-user - probably former Jedi - being involved into kidnapping of a Jedi Padawan. Yet the dark presence in the Force was so strong that Qui-Gon had no trouble following it. That meant he wouldn't loose them completely even if he did loose the sight of them. But that was little consolation. 

Qui-Gon sat grimly at the controls of his small yellow air car. Usually when he and Obi-Wan needed to fly themselves, it was the Padawan that took controls. But not this time. Not this time… 

Never taking his eyes away from the green air car ahead Qui-Gon once again ran in his thoughts over this long - way too long - day. Or were there many days? With the never-setting sun it was really hard to tell. He remembered the first glimpses of Obi-Wan's problem. _Problem. Right. A very fitting word indeed,_ he thought, unconsciously rising a sarcastic eyebrow. And that 'problem' had taken his Padawan away. Qui-Gon gave out a snort, though there was no merriment in the sound. 

As a matter of fact the 'problem' - Anisa Tontri - had taken Obi-Wan away from his Master. _First she took his soul and now his body, too. There's nothing more to take. I have nothing more to loose._ Qui-Gon jerked the gear to circle a municipal transport that was crawling like a baby-bantha. 

_Nothing more to loose. And the most dangerous people are those who have nothing left to loose,_ he suddenly thought. Oddly the thought brought some comfort. _Dangerous? Do I want to be dangerous to her?_ he asked himself and searched his heart for the answer. 

To his bewilderment the answer he came up with was - yes. _Yes, I want to be dangerous, intimidating, whatever to get my Obi-Wan back… Wait._ Qui-Gon shook his head to clear it a bit, which resulted in him almost crushing into a cargo transport. Barely avoiding the clumsy vehicle, the Master whirled his air car and zipped past it, ignoring the angry shouts of the transport's driver. 

_Wait,_ he repeated, getting himself back onto his line of thoughts. _My desire to be dangerous to her is of the Darkside. I'm a Jedi Master, not some unruly initiate who wants to walk around being cool and tough. And I WILL act like a Master, not an initiate._

_But I will NOT let her take away my Padawan._

Another spin, the air car flew under the low walkway. Out of reflex Qui-Gon dodged. When he looked up again he saw a very familiar-looking building - or rather a set of buildings come into view ahead. The three air cars were nearing the spaceport. 

Qui-Gon punched controls hard, trying to get the car move faster, but the unyielding metal of the instrumental panel bit back with a sharp pain. The car won't go any faster. Growling in frustration, Qui-Gon threw a withering look at the green car. 

Unappalled by the mighty Jedi's look, the green car whizzed into the parking zone of the spaceport. Qui-Gon pulled his own car after the green one. He searched for his pursued and for a moment of desperation he thought he had lost them in the crowded space of the parking zone, overfilled with air cars. He noisily blew out the air in relief when he spotted the slightly battered green car - only to frown when he realized it was empty. 

Quickly parking his own car, Qui-Gon rushed to the space ships. He could feel the dark presence there, clearly reverberating through the Force, not muted even in the teeming building of the spaceport. 

At the space ship's landing pad he halted, feverishly searching with his eyes for Anisa or Obi-Wan. His heart leapt into his throat then as abruptly plummeted into the pit of his stomach when he saw a small sleek passenger ship take of. The very ship where he felt the dark presence. 

The ship slipped out of the busy area of the landing pad and flew into the blue sky, quickly reducing to a mere dot, a speck of hope that soon disappeared in the blue depth of the sky. 

****************


	18. Chapter 18

**Cerasi5**, you better not fall out of a speeder on high speed ;-) :D Thank you for reviewing.
    
    **Maygin**, crazier you say? Ahem, I guess you're right. I can't imagine what you'll think about this chapter. 
    
    Don't let the end of the previous chapter make you hopeless, it's not the end of the fic. 
    
    Do you really think an obstacle like that will stop Qui-Gon where Obi-Wan is concerned? Thank you for the review.

~*~*~*~*~

Alone. He was still alone. The only living being in the unknown – and frightening in its hollowness – place. He lingered there for he had nowhere to go. How much time had passed? He didn't know.

He didn't know anything. Not his name, not where he was from. Nothing. His memory was as blank as the abyss around him. Surely, he must have some memory, something from his past, something to hold onto. But no matter how hard he tried he could get nothing out of his mind. He wracked his memory in an impatient and brash attempt to get something out of it. But his mind was just numb and cold. 

Strange. One would think that he wouldn't have any feelings since he had no body, but still he could feel the cold. The penetrating, seizing cold that grabbed him in its clutches seemed to be almost alive in its cruelty. It twisted around him, breathing at his face, licking him with icy fire. 

 _I hate this place!_  he thought with sudden animosity. 

 _Hate is of the Dark Side._

Had he heard that? Or had he imagined the voice, whispering in his mind? The voice that might belong to someone old and wise.

 _Dark Side? Dark Side of what?_  He didn't care if he was talking to himself or not, he felt he might remember something this way. And he would have been grateful for even a tiny speck of his past, even a glimpse of his memory.

 _The Force,_  came the reply.

"The Force?" The word sounded achingly familiar. It slipped from his tongue so naturally, like he was used to saying it often. "The Force." He rolled the word on his tongue, feeling the taste of it. Warm, the word was warm and welcoming. 

But he needed more – he craved more. He wanted everything. He wanted his memory, his life back!

"If hate is of the Dark Side does it mean the Dark Side is bad?" This time he got no answer but something… something blinked in his mind like a flickering light of the candle in the dark – faint but distinct. And something like an amused chuckle echoed in the back of his mind.

"What is opposite the Dark Side then?"

 _The Light Side._

Right. Yes! He jumped up in excitement. He thought – no, he knew now – he belonged to the Light Side of the Force.

An image rose in his mind, unfocussed and dimmed at first. The image of five tall towers: four on the sides, one at the center. Pristine white, beautiful, exquisite, topped with graceful spires. He thought that it was the most wonderful sight he had ever seen. 

Tears welled up in his eyes from sudden emotion. One tear fell from the nonexistent eyes. It rolled down and dropped into the void, disappearing forever. 

Home.

It was his home.

"Who am I?" he shouted into the abyss, encouraged by the sudden bright memory. "Do I have parents? Do I have friends? Where is that…" he stumbled for a moment, not knowing the name of the magnificent vision. "… that building? Where is my home?"

A chuckle echoed again, this time around him, wrapping him in the blanket of the soft sound. "My, my, how many questions and all at once." A face strikingly familiar weaved from nothingness. A face of a middle-aged man with trimmed beard and long, slightly graying hair. The midnight-blue eyes shone, looking at him with amusement.

He stared at the vision, feeling the conviction rise inside him – the conviction that he knew this man, had to know him. Then the image disappeared, thawed into the emptiness.

"Choose one question," the voice offered. 

"Uh… well… what is my name?" Now he knew that he wasn't talking to himself. Whoever or whatever he was talking to wasn't his own imagination.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi," the voice replied, but it suddenly sounded hollow.

"Um, thanks," he didn't know what to say. What does one say in gratitude to an incorporeal voice anyway?

 _Obi-Wan Kenobi. Obi-Wan Kenobi._  he repeated in his mind.  _Sounds… right._

"Where am I from?" he ventured.

No answer, not even a sound reached him this time. 

"Hello!"

Nothing.

"But…" He stumbled, suddenly lost. "But I need to know more. Please, come back!" he cried into the void, but not even an echo replied. Everything was hollow again, devoid of sounds.

At least now he knew his name. Though that gave little to him, when he wanted, yearned for, longed for so much more. But whoever – or whatever – had been talking to him was gone now, had dissipated into the void, leaving no trace. 

A blanket of emptiness wrapped itself around him again. Only now, after he had tasted a bit of his memory, the loneliness was so much worse to stand. Unbearable. He almost wished he hadn't ever heard that voice. 

A sinking feeling settled in his stomach – a feeling that he would have to spend the rest of his life, if not the whole eternity, here.

******************

Feeling empty, Obi-Wan sat there - if what he was doing could be called sitting - fighting his own wishes, trying not to give into the despair. The void was pressing down on him, making his heart feel hard like a stone. Hopelessness ruled the ball. 

He had some memories now: home, that man (though he was still unsure who the man was). The procession of memories started to unwind in his mind, caused by the memories he had already gotten. But it was still too little. It was not nearly enough.

And then the void winked at him. Again, almost playfully.

He missed it at first, but the winking continued. A small light of pure hope was blinking in the vague distance. Confusion captured his mind. Was the void playing with him or was this a way to freedom? He wished it was the way home - home he had so bizarrely retained the memory of. But he would be grateful even if it were simply the way out of this place. He would give anything to get out of here - that is if he had anything to give.

With all the strength of rising hope and desperate soul, Obi-Wan reached for the little light.  _This time I won't let it fade._  he vowed to himself.

And to his great joy the light didn't flicker out of existence as another one did the last time. If anything, the light was only growing, teasing him with a promise of possible escape. 

He almost reached it he when he suddenly stopped, unsure. The light, all of a sudden, seemed frightening. What was there, behind that light? Perhaps there was escape, but what if the death waited there for him? Or even worse. He looked back at the void and it looked so familiar and comforting to him now. 

 _Maybe I shouldn't go anywhere?_  the boy questioned himself, standing on the very threshold of unknown.  _What if it's a trap?_

Uncontrolled fear bordering on panic gripped him, steeling his breath. He almost took a step back.

Almost, but not quite. 

 _I can't stay in the void,_  he tried to persuade himself.  _I must take this chance. I must learn what is there. It's easy to stay here._  He looked around at the place, devoid of everything. The place wasn't particularly hospitable, but it was all that he knew now. Well, except for his home.  _No, I WILL NOT stay here._

Forcing all the fearful thoughts out of his mind, he made a step forward. And another. And another. Time stretched into the infinite corridor, space twisted and turned around him like a crazed wind, playing with a speck of dust. He walked and walked forward, forgetting where he was going to or why he was doing it. Abruptly he felt the weight press down on him. It came so suddenly that he fell… and only then he realized that he had a body. He had his body back!

 _Well, maybe it's not exactly MY body._  He beseeched the hope in fear that it would be crushed if the promise of freedom turned out to be false. But the hope refused to be stifled, spreading her sparkling white wings wide - ready to soar.

Getting up, he looked around. However, now there was only darkness around him. The void was gone, but so was the guiding light. Shaking his head in amazement and confusion, he made a step forward. At least, he hoped that it was forward because he could see absolutely nothing in the pitch dark of this place. Another step forward, and dry grass quietly rustled under his feet.

He blinked his eyes in wonder. The sudden light blinded him immediately, but he quickly regained his vision, as blurry as it was at first. Obi-Wan looked around through tears that had welled in his eyes from the assault of the harsh light. All around him, as far as the eye could see, stretched a hilly valley, covered with parched grass. The air was as hot and dry as on Tatooine, though the blinding-white sky not only didn't have two suns as Tatooine did - there was no trace of any sun at all. Right in front of Obi-Wan towered a sloping hill, covered with still golden-brown grass - there was no wind to make the grass waver. Something told him that he needed to go up the hill. He did just that. 

Now that he was climbing up the hill it didn't seem to be as sloping, the opposite, in fact. When he finally reached the top of the hill, a glistening sheen of perspiration was covering his forehead, and he was slightly winded. From the top of the hill the same view presented itself before his eyes. Everywhere around him the same valley lay, stretching to the horizon. It was barren, save for the brownish-gold grass and gently framed hills - no water pools, no woods and no settlements - the desert of ghostly grass. 

Then he noticed a strange thing that unnerved him: the grass was wavering, moving on its own accord as there was still not the slightest wind. The sight of moving grass hypnotized Obi-Wan.

He was standing in the middle of this barren land completely at a loss as to where he was and what to do. Was this the escape he craved so much or was it just another place, filled with loneliness and desolation? 

"Oh, what a surprise! I have a visitor!" a voice exclaimed behind him.

Reluctantly tearing his gaze from captivating sight, Obi-Wan spun to see who was speaking. He saw a man seemingly not much older than himself, or maybe he was much older. It was really hard to tell his age. There was no way the man could have gotten here without Obi-Wan knowing it. Yet the man was here. He was sitting on a large partly transparent yellow smoky stone - it reminded amber, but Obi-Wan wasn't sure.

Strangely, the man looked very familiar. Obi-Wan looked him over carefully, trying to remember where he could have seen him before. The stranger wore spacious white pants and shirt. His feet were encased in boots made of soft brown leather. The man had ginger hair that hang loosely over his shoulders, framing the young achingly familiar face. Blue-green eyes looked at Obi-Wan expectantly and with a slight mockery. 

With a pang Obi-Wan realized why the face was so familiar - it was his own face. Looking a bit older, without childishness that Obi-Wan's features still held, but the face was just the same.

"Who are you?" Obi-Wan asked, trying not to sound scared or challenging.

"My name is Loiso Pondohva*," the man replied, looking satisfied like a cat that has just eaten a bowl of sour cream. 

"Why… why do you look like me?" Obi-Wan asked him warily. Loiso merely shrugged.

"It's just a trait of my essence. My friend, Juffin, calls it 'the most overwhelming form of charm'. I can't control this ability, anyway." Something imperceptible moved in murky depth of the man's eyes, and for a moment he looked sad, but the next moment he flashed a blinding grin at sorely confused Obi-Wan.

"And where is that friend?" Obi-Wan asked, not knowing what else to ask.

"Oh, he's in another world. I don't think he would ever come here to talk to me, as you did." Loiso leaned forward as if conferring a secret. "He's busy," he said in a low voice. Then he leaned back again. "And, after all, he is the one who locked me here." Loiso's gaze seemed to become wistful, straying off into the deserted vastness of the hot world.

"But why did he do it?" Getting tired from standing, Obi-Wan lowered himself onto the low grass.  _Why would someone want to lock another in this empty place?_  

"Well, he thought he could kill me this way, but…" Loiso paused and looked at Obi-Wan appraisingly. "Anyway I don't think you need all this metaphysical mambo-jumbo. Let's just say that I survived."

"But why did he want to kill you? What have you done to him?"

"I tried to destroy his world," Catching Obi-Wan's startled look, he elaborated. "Not because I'm that evil or something. I wanted to see if I could do it. You know, like we sometimes do things simply because we can do them."

Obi-Wan didn't comment, fighting the urge to get as far from this man as possible and as soon as possible.

Loiso smiled sadly. "Don't think that Juffin is much better than me. If it weren't the world he likes he would have taken a ticket to the first row and watch the performance with interest."

Obi-Wan just shook his head.  _Maybe this is a madhouse? Yeah, a personal madhouse I somehow has wandered into._  

Loiso watched him closely as though he could hear Obi-Wan's thoughts. "Well, I prefer to call it my personal hell," he finally said.

"I guess, the hell could look like this," Obi-Wan supplied politely, at the same time tightening his mental shields. Loiso smiled at him knowingly, making the boy blush.

"Is this real?" Obi-Wan asked, trying to escape the scrutiny. He swiped his hand in a wide arc, encompassing the whole valley.

"Real? You are so funny!" Loiso laughed loudly, making Obi-Wan even more confused. The Padawan felt insulted by the man's odd behaviour. "And just what do you define as real?" Loiso asked, still chortling.

"Umm… what I can feel," Obi-Wan provided hesitantly. He suddenly had a feeling that his answer would make Loiso laugh even harder. But, to the boy's surprise, he didn't.

"Yes, you think that what you feel is real. But how can you be sure that it's not some kind of a hallucination? How do you know that you're not an animal that had eaten some grass, producing hallucinations for you to think you're sitting here talking to me?"

"Err… but you're here, too," Obi-Wan tried to argue. His common sense declared a strong urge to submit to resignation and leave him right now, possibly to never return.

"And what if I'm just your imagination?" Loiso stared at him with penetrating gaze of two blue-green eyes that were so much like Obi-Wan's own.

Obi-Wan could just stare back at him, feeling his thoughts starting to tangle, making a mess in his head. 

"I see I scared you." After a minute of silence Loiso suddenly laughed again. Obi-Wan listened attentively to the sound of his laughter. But there was no trace of insanity in it - just a common laughter of a man who had found something funny. 

"It was a joke, then?" Obi-Wan asked, relieved.

"No, it's no joke," Loiso suddenly became serious. "And you better keep it in mind."

Silence fell as Obi-Wan tried to comprehend what he had just heard.

 "Tell me how you got here," Loiso suddenly asked. "It appears that you are not here by you own wish."

Having decided that it won't hurt to tell Obi-Wan related his story. By this time he has already recollected the mission on Allura, and that memory didn't bring him any pleasure. He expected that Loiso will sympathize him or probably will scold for rashness. But the man reacted in an absolutely another way. He looked at Obi-Wan with a somehow shrill sad and simultaneously slightly derisive look.

"Are you aware that you have got one of the biggest desires of any person coming true?" Loiso said.

Obi-Wan stared at him clueless as to what Loiso was speaking about.

"That girl, Anisa, you see, she fell in love with you."

Obi-Wan wanted to protest, but Loiso lifted a hand to forestall the not yet begun protests.

"Certainly, nobody will call it normal love," Loiso grinned. "To pull the soul out of a person - literally - is a rather strange display of love, but nevertheless…"

"So what?" Obi-Wan asked, not seeing where the man was going with this. "What does any desire have to do with this?"

"Pretty much, in fact. The biggest desire of any person is an irrepressible, a little bit childish desire that everybody loved him or her. You have got that love. How did you like it?"

"Frankly speaking, I didn't like it at all. I got here because of it."

"Exactly. I think now you would not like to be loved by everybody anymore, huh?" Loiso looked at him slyly.

"No, I don't think so," Obi-Wan mumbled. Trying to gather his runaway thoughts he stared into the distance with the unseeing eyes. One thought was bothering him more than anything else.  _Will I have to stay here forever?_

********************

* Loiso Pondohva belongs to Max Frei, as do his world and everyone he knows.


	19. Chapter 19

Thanks, **Cerasi5**. There's not much left of this story though ;-)
    
    **Padawan JanAQ**, all will be revealed in due time. Thanks for the review.
    
    Who wanted to see Kamon and Namira? Here you go. 

~*~*~*~*~

Kamon sat on the windowsill of Namira's room, looking at the street through his own faint reflection on the transparisteel. Outside the window the day was still as bright as when the Jedi had first come. How long ago had they come? A few days? A week? Feeling suddenly tired Kamon realized that with this never-ending sunlight mixing all days into one extensive day, he had totally lost the track of time.  _My Master will not be happy to hear about it_,  he thought with sudden regret. Now he wished his Master were here to offer support and guidance.  A Jedi should never loose the track of time.   Kamon repeated a lecture he had heard countless times in his life, from his own Master and from other masters at the Temple. 

But was it really the confusing ever-present sunlight, merging the chain of days into one incredibly long day, tiresome for a person unaccustomed to it, that made him forget about time? Or was it the situation they had found themselves in?  _Never loose the track of time, no matter the circumstances._  But the circumstances were, to put it mildly, out of ordinary. 

Kamon shivered remembering the look on Obi-Wan's face in the medical center, those empty eyes, devoid of any feeling, devoid of life. Clear pools of nothing. As a padawan Kamon had seen many things – beautiful and ugly alike. Many of the things the galaxy had to offer. But Obi-Wan's eyes rivaled the worst of those. They reminded him the eyes he had seen once before – the eyes of a corpse. Usually there was surprise written in the eyes of the dead people as though they couldn't believe that death had found its way to them. But that man had never known what had hit him, didn't have time to become surprised, and there was nothing in his eyes, just a void. And the same void had been in the eyes of Obi-Wan – Kamon's dear friend. It had been too much to bear and Kamon had all but fled from the medical center, almost dragging Namira alongside.

He glanced at the girl sitting opposite from him in a large plush wine-red – just why do pretentious people love red so much? – armchair. She was fingering emerald leaves of a small domestic palm-tree beside the armchair absentmindedly. Even the beautiful plant, it appeared, became gloomy in the air of confusion and apprehension the two young people felt. The leaves of the innocent plant hang loosely, it seemed that even bright colours of the leaves grew dim. 

Kamon averted his eyes from the plant onto the girl. A stray lock of chestnut hair unwove came loose from the thick tight braid Namira wore and fell over her forehead, gleaming in the brilliant sunlight with the colour of dark honey. She brushed it away automatically. Her large blue eyes stared into nothingness, crystalline tears sparkling in their corners.

Kamon knew she was troubled, could feel her anxiety radiating from her through the Force in strong waves. And he knew exactly what was troubling her – Obi-Wan. She hadn't known Obi-Wan for long, but it was impossible to not get attached to him. He seemed to radiate a warm charismatic aura, not only in the Force, but also in the very air, surrounding him. Now all that was gone. 

Kamon did not know exactly what had happened to his friend. He and Namira had caught bits and pieces of Qui-Gon's conversation with Tarlott, but nothing particular. Kamon only knew that something horrible had happened, but then again one didn't need to be a Jedi to understand that. When he and Namira had come into Imata's apartment she burst into tears, and Kamon had no other choice but to try to console her. How he felt about it was another matter. Suffice to say that it hadn't been time he wished his Master were there. He had found that being strong is easier when you have someone weaker to support. 

Finally calming down, still wiping her tears Namira had told him what she knew about soulhunters. To say that Kamon was disturbed by her story is to say nothing. What pained him most was that he could do nothing to help his friend in such situation. He could only sit and hope. Hope that others will succeed. Hope was the last consolation.

Something else was troubling Kamon as well. Merely a faint whisper of the Force in the back of his mind, but it made him uneasy. Still Kamon gave it no thought. He tried not to think at all, but it proved to be the hardest thing to do. Diverting his thoughts onto less painful subjects appeared to be more effective. And so Kamon did his best to think 'about something else': he watched carefully the air cars outside, tracing their pattern with his eyes; looked at the buildings that were glaring at him with straight rows of shining windows…

A sudden noise in the corridor – faint at first but steadily growing louder – caught Kamon's attention. And almost instantly a dim disturbing beat in the back of his mind turned into a full-blown Force's warning. An alarm that went off in his mind threw him into action even before he could think. His focus sharpened, hematite eyes darted around the room, registering possible escape routes from the impending danger. Immediately Kamon transformed from a disturbed and idle young man into the well-trained Jedi apprentice. The vague noise in the corridor turned into distinguishable footsteps that paused at the door of Imata's apartment. 

Acting purely on instinct Kamon grabbed Namira from her chair, almost tipping the poor palm-tree over in haste, and pushed the slightly protesting and genuinely confused girl to stand behind his back. 

****************

Namira opened her mouth to ask what was wrong – as she didn't hear the commotion outside the door – but was cut off by Kamon's hand, placed unceremoniously over her lips. Irritated by the suddenly weird behaviour of her Jedi protector and strangely warmed by his touch at the same time, she tried to unclamp his hand to say something. However only a bubbling noise came out of her throat, her attempts having failed miserably.

"Shh," Kamon hissed at her softly. "We need to get out of here and be very quiet as we do so," he whispered.

A hot wave of fear rose inside her, colouring her face rose-red. Unintentionally she grabbed the edges of Kamon's tunic tightly. She needed to hold onto something. And his tunic seemed just the perfect something to hold onto.

 _What is it? Who? Why?  Her thoughts tangled on the slippery ground of panic. _

"Follow me, do what I say and don't be afraid," Kamon whispered as if he had heard her thoughts. 

 _He very well might do just that,  she thought.  _He's a Jedi after all. They're supposed to be able to do this._ _

But she doubted it was the case. She herself couldn't make anything out of the mess in her head, let alone some stranger.

 _Stranger? But he's no stranger. He's…  _

A sudden jerk yanked her out of her thoughts as Kamon shoved her none too gently across the room to the window. She was about to hiss at him angrily for being such a 'gentleman' when the doors flew open and half a dozen heavily armed men, dressed in black cloths with masks, covering their faces, burst into the room. Her startled cry came out as a muffled squeak that was easily drowned out by the pounding of the men's boots on the floor. 

"To the window. Now!" Kamon ordered her, activating his lightsaber. 

"But it…" she tried to object.

"I said now!" he shouted over the racket of first blaster shots that erupted from the newcomers.

 _…doesn't open,  she finished in her mind._

She ran two steps to the window and stopped there, unsure.

"Open it!" Kamon yelled, nearing the window while deflecting the blaster bolts that boiled the air around the two people in defense.

"It's stuck!" Namira shouted back, jerking the window knob wildly until her hands started to ache. The window had no intention to open.

Without as much as a thought Kamon grabbed the nearest chair and threw it at the stubborn window. With a feeble clang the glass shattered, letting the street din surge into the room. Sounds mixed, comprising a cacophony of hellish music. Remarkably this wild mix of sounds scared Namira more than anything else. The situation seemed so unreal – a scene from a holovid movie, not from real life. Everything but sounds. They were rich and deep, sharp as a knife, cutting the ears – and horribly, undeniably real. 

Namira suddenly felt dizzy, her head swimming in a mayhem of emotions never felt before, and she found herself grinning stupidly. Out of the corner of her eye she caught Kamon's concerned glance.

"'m 'kay," she muttered in a weak attempt to reassure him. 

"Yeah, right." She heard him growl. 

His blue 'saber flashed in the air non-stop, slashing – cutting the tight threads of wind, gushing from broken window – filling the room with electrified hum. Blaster bolts rained in a downpour of red and green fire onto the two young people at the window. The attackers hollered in rage at their helpless inability to hit the target that seemed all too easy at first. 

Kamon yelled something at the top of his lungs, trying to cover the hectic noise of the once so peaceful room. But even using the Force his voice was drowned out by the tumult, or maybe Namira simply couldn't register what he was saying. She could only see his lips moving without a sound, though he was standing a mere foot from her. Apparently seeing that his efforts had no effect on the shocked girl, Kamon flung his lightsaber from his right hand to the left one and embraced Namira's waist with his now free hand. Using the Force to aid his physical strength he quickly lifted the slender girl onto the windowsill. 

Looking down at the seemingly endless drop of the tall building, countless rows of balconies and windows below, straight white wall – going down, it seemed, to the very core of the planet – Namira felt suddenly sick.

 _What if I fall?  A thought flashed in her mind, then returned, slower. She was suddenly mesmerized by the height, balancing on the very edge, unable to take her eyes away from the sunlit depth of the street, dizzying patterns of the traffic. _

Her knees abruptly went weak, and she wavered on her feet still unable to look anywhere but down. At the last possible moment, when she almost fell out of the window and into the street that was bursting with life and hurrying air cars to drop down the uncountable number of stories, she managed to direct her fall inside the room instead of outside. 

A startled cry told her that she wasn't all that fortunate – or rather someone else was a bit unfortunate as she landed on something, or someone, soft. She opened her eyes –  _When did I close them?_  she wondered – to see the soft beige fabric of Kamon's tunic.

The fight didn't even start to subside, if anything it only intensified, though a couple of the attackers were already lying on the floor, unmoving, making the sharp contrast with the ordinary furnishings of the cozy room. Namira's eyes fixed on the still figures and she inhaled sharply – the sight was not too pleasant even for the experienced Jedi padawan, let alone for the girl who had spent her entire life under the care of her loving father. Her fingers dug into the shoulder of the young man painfully, alarming him instantly. It proved to be a mistake as he turned for a split second to look at her. Just for a moment his attention was diverted from the firing men, but that moment was enough.

Namira heard a short cry, a cry of pain. And it came from Kamon. Panicked she searched his eyes, but he already turned away to block more blaster bolts. The lightsaber swished in the air like a cloud of intense blue light, deflecting bolts and sending out sparks. But now Kamon operated with his right hand. 

"Get back up there!" he shouted.

"But… but I'll fall…" Namira protested weakly.

"No, you won't. Up, now," Kamon ordered in a voice, not bearing objection.

Meekly Namira obeyed. On the unsteady legs, clutching the window frame for support, she got onto the windowsill. With one graceful leap Kamon followed her, still deflecting blaster bolts. 

"And what do we do now?" Namira asked, holding onto the window frame for dear life.

"Now we jump," the Padawan replied, not even sparing her a glance.

"Are you crazy?!" the girl exploded. "If we jump down there," she pointed down, though Kamon wasn't looking at her. "they would find just pieces of us, if there would be left anything at all!" Namira shouted in almost hysterics.

Suddenly the world around her turned upside down. The traffic and the sky flashed before her eyes. The ground fell downwards – or upwards. Everything mixed in a blur of colours and wind. But before she could get really scared she felt solid ground under her feet again. 

"Wha… What… w-was that?" she stammered in shock.

"We need to get out of here before they realize where we have gone," Kamon said, ignoring her incoherent question. He went to the large transparisteel door, intending to open it.

Namira peered around, trying to comprehend where they were and how did they get there. She gathered that they were on one of the balconies. But as far as she knew all the balconies were pretty far to the sides or down from the window of Imata's apartment.  _So how did we get here?_  she wondered silently since her 'gentleman' wasn't too talkative being occupied trying to break the balcony door without any subsidiary tools. 

Trying to find out the answer on her own she looked around again, then up… and almost screamed – one of their attackers was looking down at her with an angry scowl. A blaster suddenly appeared next to his head, and before Namira knew it the man opened fire. 

With a piercing cry she dashed to Kamon, trying to find protection from the shower of blaster bolts. At the very same moment Kamon finally managed to open the door with the aid of the Force. Please that he had managed it he didn't have time to react when Namira collided with him. With a horrifying crash they flew into the room landing on the floor in a heap. 

****************

Kamon couldn't thank the Force enough that the room turned out to be empty. He quickly picked himself up from the floor and helped Namira up as well. Now they needed to get out of there, preferably quickly. He looked the room over in search of the door, noting absentmindedly Namira's jumbled hair and pale face. She was clutching his hand fearfully. The door was nowhere to be seen.

He had jumped as far down as he dared, counting Namira's weight, added to his own.  _It is pretty far down, it should hold them for a while_,  he told himself. But he knew that this while wasn't too much time, minutes at the most. Frankly speaking, he would have preferred to land in another building – or on another planet. But that was not an option – unfortunately.

Finally finding the door –  _What senseless idiot masked it with those plants?!_  – he ran to it, dragging Namira, who had long ago lost any ability to object, along. 

In a blur of frantic haste they ran out of the apartment and into the corridor. The usually crowded corridor of the huge building met them with eerily empty silence. Making up his mind Kamon rushed to the landing platform.  _If we couldn't jump to another building, we will be able to fly to another building… I hope._

The landing platform was as empty as the rest of the building they had run through. Kamon sighed in relief, as he had been half expecting to meet their attackers here. But apparently they weren't that fast, loaded with all those weapons. 

Namira, abruptly coming to her senses, hailed an air taxi. A white air taxi left the row of traffic and soared to them, landing with a graceful arc. A swarthy guy, demonstrating a sparkling white-teeth smile, invited them inside. Without hesitation Namira got into the back seat of the air taxi. Kamon jumped in next to her. At the same moment the door to the landing platform flew open, revealing seven armed men, dressed in black. Next second the platform was filled with blinding blaster fire and the roar of the air taxi taking off. 

Luckily the taxi driver turned out to be an excellent pilot and managed to fly them safely out of the hot spot. Now the question was…

"Where to?" the driver and Kamon asked in unison.

Namira shrugged.

*******************


	20. Chapter 20

"Will I ever get home?" Obi-Wan said wistfully after what felt like hours of silence, more to himself than to Loiso. But the man answered anyway.

"No."

The answer startled the boy into a jump. "No?! You mean… But why?"

"Because it won't be you who returns," followed the reply. Loiso seemed unperturbed by Obi-Wan's reaction.

Confusion crept at Obi-Wan again. This man was worse than Master Yoda. At least Yoda spoke without riddles, sometimes. But the boy wasn't going to give up easily. Besides he had nothing else to do. "Why is that?"

Loiso seemed thoughtful for a moment, but a sly twinkle in his eyes told Obi-Wan that he was just keeping a pause. "That guy will have your appearance, even your soul, but he will be different. You already are different because of what you saw. And you will see and learn something else."

Now this was more like a normal talk - or maybe he was simply getting used to Loiso's odd views and opinions. "Do you see it in my future?" Somehow it seemed right that a man like this must know the future.

"No, not really," Loiso laughed. "I'm afraid I lack that talent. However funny and ridiculous it might seem, you see, I never had even a plain simple premonition." For a moment Loiso seemed almost sad, his eyes trained on some unseen spot on the golden horizon.

"But why did you say what you said, then?"

"In my experience, it's not easy to get where you want, no matter where that is. Once eternity has you it won't let you go so easily. You need to have special powers..."

Obi-Wan hung his head. 'Special powers'! Whatever that meant he was sure he didn't have any special powers. Loiso looked at him with something akin to compassion lurking somewhere in his eyes, and continued.

"Or you must be... nice enough for eternity to fall in love with you. Then she will make you a gift." Loiso looked him over with an appraising look. "I think you have a chance."

Blushing slightly, trying to ignore his discomfort, Obi-Wan raised his head and looked around. "But how do I get home from HERE?" 

The place seemed frozen in time. There was no sun, and hence no shadows, to mark the passing of time. Nothing moved in this world. No animals, no birds, just brownish-golden grass. Anywhere. And white sky, covering the plate of the plane.

Loiso's voice brought Obi-Wan out of his reverie and back to their conversation. "From here? Well, I guess there's no way to get anywhere from here. But why don't you go where you were before?"

"All right, suppose, I'm back there. But how do I get home?"

"The way you came here, of course." The man said it as though he found even the question ridiculous. "How did you do that?"

"I saw a dapple and reached for it. That's all," Obi-Wan confessed.

"Well, that's one way to do it."

"Is there another way?"

"Every person has their own way. This one is yours. Using another's won't give you anything, but failure."

"But if you're a prisoner here doesn't it mean that I'm a prisoner now as well?" Obi-Wan decided that he didn't like the idea to spend the rest of his life here. With Loiso as the only one to talk to.

"No, you can go away freely. I am the only one who is bound to this place."

Obi-Wan stood up from the dry ground. "I guess I'll go now, then. It was nice to meet you." He made a couple of steps, then paused and turned back. "Maybe you can come with me?" he asked, surprising even himself. It seemed... unfair to leave Loiso here.

The man smiled at him, but his eyes were sad. "Sorry, I can't. You go on. Don't worry about me. There's someone with enough power to get me out of here, and one beautiful day he might do just that. In his soul he is as kind and openhearted as you are. Speaking of which: it is a good trait, but be careful... Now go!"

Obi-Wan wanted to say something else, but sudden wind that came from nowhere pushed him down the hill slope. Obi-Wan looked back once again, but Loiso was already gone, had dissipated like mist under the morning sun. Only the smoky yellow stone stood lonely on the hilltop. Obi-Wan moved onward - back to the place of nothingness.

The place met him with cold unwelcoming void, and once again he had nothing: no body, no feelings. But now he had hope - a little light in darkness that would save his life... and sanity. 

He looked around, seeing nothing at first, but then... then the void brightened, started to play with myriads of brilliant lights, scattered around. It looked almost like an outer space, but somehow it was much deeper.

Now Obi-Wan knew that he could get home. But where exactly was home? Which one of these sparkling lights was the door to his world?

He tried to reach one of the lights, then another. He came close to them and then looked inside. There were different worlds: warm and cold, of wars and peace, beautiful and ugly. 

Once he saw a huge space station, round like a moon, gray and sinister. It was being attacked by numerous starfighters that flew around it like motes. 

But none of those worlds was HIS home. So he kept searching, waiting for the gift eternity might give him.

When he reached the next light, he saw a large alley, surrounded by city buildings - nothing special. But he suddenly felt compelled to go there. He dived out of the void and into the thick and hot summer air of the dusty alley. The sun was setting for the night, and evening sounds promptly covered the boy's ears with a blanket of life's din.

The alley was empty safe for the two men, who were sitting on a bench and another man dressed in a straight gray suit, who was standing in front of them with his back to Obi-Wan. At first there was nothing strange in that man, except, perhaps, that his cloth was nothing like what Obi-Wan had seen before. No big deal, really. There were plenty of weird cloths, worn by different kinds of beings in Obi-Wan's world. Nothing strange if he met an unknown dress in another universe.

But then the man turned, and Obi-Wan had a chance to take a better look at him. At the first glance at him Obi-Wan felt sharp needles of cold fear creep up his spine. The man was tall, but not too tall. He had black hair and black brows - one was raised higher than the other. He seemed to be about forty, but something in him belied this impression. The man carried a black stick with the handle, resembling a head of a dog with open maw and sharp fangs. 

The man smiled - or rather sneered - demonstrating his teeth: platinum on the left side and golden on the right side. The whole visage of the man was unsettling, but what was more frightening - so much more - were his eyes. The left one, green, was absolutely insane. The right one was empty, black and dead. 

When the man looked at Obi-Wan it seemed as though the very essence of evil turned its eye upon the boy. The Padawan froze under the glare of this man, feeling all of his thoughts leave him in near panic, fluid like running water.

******************


	21. Chapter 21

All right, **Cerasi5**, just for you :D Here's the next part. Hopefully you enjoy it.

~*~*~*~*~

"Where to?" the air taxi driver and Kamon asked in unison.

Namira shrugged. "Maybe we could go to a friend of mine? She lives somewhere around here," she suggested hesitantly.

"I don't think I like that idea," Kamon replied thoughtfully. "Arones didn't seem a stupid man to me. And if he's not he knows about all your friends. No, this way we will only put ourselves and your friend in danger."

"All right then. What do you propose?" Namira asked, a slightest hint of irritation starting to creep into her voice. 

Apparently seeing their uncertainty the driver stopped the air taxi, and it hovered at the side of the street. "I'll wait here while you guys decide where you want to go," he announced and turned away, giving them some semblance of privacy for conversation.

The two young people nodded, barely noticing what he had said, trying to figure out the next step.

"First of all I think we should call Master Jinn and tell him what transpired," the Padawan said reasonably. 

With that Kamon picked up his comlink and called Jinn's sequence. But no answer came. Surprised, the boy called again - with the same result. Namira stared at him with nervousness growing in her eyes. Kamon shrugged, trying to hide his own worry and puzzlement from her.

"Maybe he's too busy with Obi-Wan," he suggested, knowing that wasn't the matter. 

"What if something happened to them?" Namira asked. Her lower lip started to tremble - the stressful events of this day were simply too much for her.

Kamon felt at a loss. On one hand he was worried himself: it wasn't usual for a Jedi on a mission to simply forget about his or her comlink or ignore its signal. On the other hand he suddenly found out that he didn't want Namira to be distressed. Gingerly he put his hand on her shoulder, half expecting to be pushed away angrily. But she instead nestled closer to him. Feeling reassured by this he wrapped his arm around her shoulders gently.

"I don't think something happened to them," Kamon said, putting on his best I-know-I'm-right face.  _Force, I hope it's true! There's more than enough that already happened,_  he added to himself. But the more time passed the more he was unsure.

"But what do we do now?" Namira asked, suddenly looking very vulnerable.

"We need to find someplace safe," he replied, trying hard to think about such a place, remembering all he read about this planet in whole and this city in particular. But nothing came into his mind.

"I don't know if any place in this city is safe," Namira said dejectedly, echoing his thoughts. "Arones is a powerful man. He will find us anywhere."

"Then we must find a place where we can find protection of some kind." 

"We could go to my father," Namira offered after a moment of silence.

"Your father?!" Kamon stared at her incredulously, his dark eyes becoming even darker with astonishment. "You said your father is an invalid, didn't you? And this is your idea of a safe place?!"

"So he is an invalid. But we have a big house, so he keeps guards to protect it. And THIS is my idea of a safe place. Do you have any better idea?!" Her tirade ended almost in a yell. Constant anxieties were taking their toll on her, and she was trembling with emotion.

The driver, who was watching the exchange through the side mirror, shook his head with a knowing smile at the almost love skirmish.

Kamon, disturbed by the girl's outburst, realizing that she was on edge, squeezed her shoulder gently. "Calm down, please," he said quietly. His almost whispered words made her strain to hear them, and she calmed down. Thus taking her mind away from the worries she had been so focused on, Kamon sent her a wave of calming Force, though he was more than sure that she would not feel even the slightest bit of it. 

But contrary to what he thought she did feel it, although her perception of it was vague. She felt warmth and knew that it had come from him. She smiled up at him with gratitude, making him wonder. 

"That's better," he said, seeing her relax slightly. "I guess you're right. Your father's house might be indeed the safest place we could find here." Oh, how he wished they were on Coruscant! There was one safest place in the galaxy. The Temple. And his Master. But right now he was on his own. And right now he was the protector…

"So, have you decided yet?" the driver intervened into their talk and into Kamon's thoughts that had suddenly taken an almost romantic inclination.

"Yes, we have," Namira replied, a small smile appearing on her face - a smile of woman's contentment that lit up her eyes. She told the driver the address, and the air taxi started on its journey yet again.

After what seemed an endless time, but in fact was little more than an hour, they left the city, and a wide panorama of 'cultivated' land opened before them. There were little trees in this area, if any at all. Here and there enormous piles of trash marred the plain with their ugly outlines. The unconstrained tentacles of waste crawled in all directions, threatening one day to embrace the city in the clutches of filth. Unlike Coruscant - the shining capital of the Republic - on Allura there wasn't a finely orchestrated system of machinery called to recycle the refuse and then send the unutilized remnants of it onto the planet's orbit. 

The dull landscape oppressed the people, and their light banter faded away, replaced by viscous and monotonous silence, heavy as a pitch. To everyone's relief, before long a cluster of trees appeared in the middle of wasteland. The bright green of the trees' foliage dispelled the uncomfortable silence, lightening the mood. 

A few minutes later the taxi drew to the house in the middle of this oasis and stopped at the main entrance to the manor. Namira paid the driver, and he took off on his way back to the city. The young people directed their steps to the mansion. Kamon looked it over with wonder and a hint of apprehension. The house was fairly large: though it was only three stories high it stretched to both sides from the main entrance, and its walls disappeared eventually in the thick shrubbery of the regular garden. The old manor had been built of large brownish red stones and decorated with white stucco molding. Wide windows ran in rows all over the facade, lightening the impression of strictness. The Padawan spotted a few shadows, moving behind the tall windows, wavering heavy curtains. Strangely enough no one came out to greet the guests. Uneasiness settled in their hearts as Kamon and Namira approached the house. 

"Is it always this quiet here?" Kamon asked in a subdued voice, looking around as though he expected some unknown danger to jump at them any moment. 

"N-No," Namira replied in an equally subdued voice that was quivering a little. "I grew up here and it was never this… this… scary here." She shivered slightly, hugging the edges of her blue jacket tighter around herself.

They resembled two little children who ran away to play and accidentally got into the old castle, full of ancient dust, legends and ghosts. Namira's hand unconsciously slid into Kamon's larger one, and he squeezed it gently to reassure her. 

They approached a huge wooden door and rang a bronze bell. The deep sound of the bell echoed hollowly in the hall behind the door. Namira shrank and clasped Kamon's hand tighter.

With a shrieking crunch the heavy door opened, revealing a fairly young man standing on the threshold. At the sight of him Namira gave out a quiet whimper. She recognized him immediately as soon as she saw him - it was one of Arones' men. One of his closest and trusted men.

*******************

Qui-Gon stood on the spacious landing field of the busy spaceport, watching helplessly as the ship that was carrying his padawan, the soulhunter, and the Dark Jedi turned into a shining speck of light and then disappeared completely in the peaceful azure of the day sky. And as peaceful was the sky as troubled was the Master's heart, ripples of unease hiding just under the serene countenance the Master maintained, perhaps out of lifetime habit. 

The kidnappers had gotten away from him. It would have been an insuperable impediment for any other person. But it was a minor obstacle that would not, by any estimation, prevent Qui-Gon Jinn from getting to his apprentice. No, he wouldn't be stopped simply because they had a ship at the ready while he had not. 

Moments later Qui-Gon found himself walking briskly to the office of the spaceport's chief through the maze of corridors the main spaceport's building had. At the door to the office he paused, closing his eyes for a moment listening to the Force intently. It was weird, foolish even, but he could still sense the presence of the Dark Jedi like a marred spot on the crystal web of the Force. It could mean only that the abductors were still in this planetary system - they didn't jump into hyperspace. 

Qui-Gon snorted quietly. "Fools. They make it so much easier!"

The dark presence lingered in the Force, creating a clear trace for the Jedi Master to follow. And follow he would, as soon as he gets a transport.

It didn't take long for Qui-Gon to convince the spaceport's chief to give him a ship. After all, every official was bound to help the Jedi should they require some help. The chief had checked some records and gave Qui-Gon a dock number. The Master was out of the door as soon as said number left the chief's lips. The chief looked after him in a slight shock, then shook his head and returned to his computer terminal.  _Those Jedi are so weird!_  he thought before setting his mind on other matters. 

Qui-Gon found the right dock rather quickly. The ship was there, all right. Of course, it wasn't the fastest transport Qui-Gon had ever seen, being a rather old and battered corellian ship as it was. But right now anything would do - there wasn't much of a choice anyway. The Jedi Master couldn't afford to loose even a minute in search of a better ship: the abductors might realize their mistake any minute and go into a hyperspace jump, which undoubtedly would result in Qui-Gon loosing all the tracks of them. So he could only hope that the corellian transport would keep the reputation of the manufacturers and turn out to be better than what it looked.

Getting onboard the ship Qui-Gon swiftly started to run the preflight procedures. The chief had offered him to take a pilot, but the Jedi refused, knowing that he would be better on his own and not wishing to put an innocent person in a dangerous situation that the events might turn into. A sharp beep signaled the ship was ready for the flight, and Qui-Gon started the engines. A minute later the ship shot out of the atmosphere, following the clear trace the dark Jedi's presence had left in the Force. 

Around an hour later a small black corellian transport appeared in the upper atmosphere of Amaltea, another planet of Allura system. 

Qui-Gon looked out the front viewport at the planet that stretched beneath his bulky ship. Amaltea's surface was mostly a pleasant soft green as it was covered with rich vegetation. Here and there gray spots and tendrils indicated mountain massifs; deep blue marks indicated seas and oceans. Warps of clouds floating high in the atmosphere smeared the view, making the perspective vague. 

The planet was beautiful, and much more pure than Allura, almost wild in its nature as it was left untouched during the years the main planet of the system had been colonized and urbanized. But its beauty was lost on the frowning Jedi Master who studied it intently. How could he enjoy the beauty, no matter how bright, when his Padawan, the closest person to him, was in grave danger? Qui-Gon had no illusions concerning what the dark Jedi might want with the young Padawan. 

The presence of the dark Jedi was strong here: apparently the kidnappers had landed on the planet. But suddenly a problem arouse - where exactly had they landed? Qui-Gon tried to pinpoint the location through the Force, honing his senses to the incredible acuteness, but all of his efforts proved to be futile. The Living Force of the planet was so bright and radiant it was almost blinding. The planet thrived with life. Any other time Qui-Gon would have basked in the luminosity of the Living Force here, his connection to it had always been so deep and innate he felt himself part of nature, part of the Living Force. But right now he wasn't glad to feel it, right now it was a hindrance. Billions of life forms produced an incredible mix of signatures, a mix even a Jedi Master couldn't sort through. Qui-Gon had the whole planet before him and no clue where to start searching. He was so close yet so far... 

*******************


	22. Chapter 22

Answers are further into the story, **Cerasi5** ;-) And thanks for reviewing.

Aren't you too fast, **Agent Jaid**? I'm afraid the rest of the story has not yet formed entirely in my head, let alone on my computer.

**KissSpooky**, thank you very much for you kind words, though I fail to understand where you see talent here. But probably it's just me. :D

I was actually going to post this on Friday, but you know what has happened to the site… So here it is now.

~*~*~*~*~

The green sphere of Amaltea loomed in the front viewport of the abductor's ship. Smiling a small wistful smile at the sight of his homeplanet, the middle-aged pilot pulled the lever and lowered the ship into the atmosphere. The man sitting in the copilot's chair didn't share his counterpart's joy, though. On contrary, his tanned face framed with coal black unruly hair was rather grim. 

"What's all that happiness about?" he finally uttered in an irritated and gruff voice, apparently unable to stand the pilot's smiling face anymore.

"It's my home, Taruin," the pilot answered, undeterred. 

"So what?" the man called Taruin asked, rubbing his forehead tiredly. The gesture held some sort of disgust, as if he wasn't all too happy about what was going on, and what they were doing in particular. 

The pilot opened his mouth to answer, but quickly shut it as another man entered the cockpit. The new arrival looked briefly outside through the front viewport with a straight face that held no emotion. He then averted his attention to the other two men. 

"Taruin, go check on our prisoner," he ordered in a voice that bore no objections. 

Wincing a bit, Taruin rose from his seat and with a barely audible sigh left the cockpit. Two sharp eyes followed him until the door hissed closed, then the eyes shifted to the pilot, who appeared rather uncomfortable and tried to avoid looking at the other man, concentrating instead on the panels around him. 

"He's too soft, a weakling," the standing man stated in an unflappable voice that held a tint of metal in it. Surely he was used to commanding people. The pilot continued staring at the front viewport and the control panel before him. "We'll have to get rid of him as soon as we don't need him any longer," the man added and he, too, fixed his gaze on the front viewport. 

****************

Taruin entered the cargo hold of their ship and immediately felt tension rise in him as he saw the two eyes watching him from the dusk of the small square room. The eyes glistened in the poor light of a single dull bulbous lamp that hung right under the ceiling. The man felt uneasiness rush through him in waves under the scrutiny of those eyes. They watched him calmly, no fear showed in them, no curiosity, nothing at all. And it scared him more than he would ever admit. He was a brave man, but he was afraid of this boy, of his eyes devoid of any emotion.

When they had kidnapped him, the boy didn't even struggle. He had simply let them take him away, not sparing a glance in the direction of the man who lay sprawled on the floor with a bloody gash on his head. Taruin had been told they were to abduct a young man, had been told that there could be a fight of some sort, and he had been ready for that. But he wasn't ready for this soundless acceptance, and it scared the hell out of him.

"Well… hello there," he mumbled, shifting awkwardly.

The boy continued to stare at him silently with the eyes dark in the dimness of the room.

Unnerved, Taruin rubbed his hands apprehensively. "M-maybe you are hungry?" he asked.

Silence.

This intent look was the most frightening thing Taruin had seen in his entire life. He caught himself thinking that he would rather face five armed men than this single defenseless boy. 

Suddenly the young man shifted slightly, breaking the spell, and turned from a chilling living statue into a vulnerable child right before Taruin's eyes. The man felt pity swell in him, watering his eyes - pity for this poor boy. He remembered his own children - a fifteen-year-old son and a ten-year-old daughter. He imagined his own son bound, thrown on a dirty floor in a tiny cell, treated like a slave or worse. The image made his knees go weak.

 _No, they promised they won't hurt them! They promised they will take care of them!_  The sight of the vulnerable boy brought new pain to the thought of his own family, held captive. The thought clawed his mind like a wounded wild bird trapped in a cage.  _Can their word be true? Can I trust they will keep it?_  He had no guarantees. There was no honor in his 'employers'. The image of his son from his memory melted into the image of the boy in front of him.

The boy was curled up on the floor in a bundle. His hands and ankles were bound tightly, to the point of cutting the tender skin. An electric collar that coiled around his neck like some strict-styled yet exotic necklace sparkled quietly with matte metallic glow in the dimness of the cargo hold. The boy stared aimlessly at the wall with empty eyes.

"Poor kid," Taruin mumbled, kneeling beside the captive. With quivering hands he loosened the binds a bit, praying that no one would come in to see this. He knew that doing this he risked his head and, more importantly, he risked his his children's and wife's lives. But he couldn't stop himself, he knew - was certain though he couldn't even start to imagine where that conviction came from - that he was doing the right thing.

Now that he was this near and could take a closer look at the boy, all Taruin's his fear gone, replaced with sympathy.  _Maybe he's ill?_  Taruin wondered. The boy was too still, too silent…

"Are you hungry?" the man asked, not really expecting any answer since he never got one before.

"No."

The curt response was spoken in a soft mild voice, but it sounded almost deafening in the silence that was broken only by the low dull growl of the ship's engines. Taruin jumped at the unexpected sound and backed from the boy. The other remained motionless; his eyes still staring at the opposite wall. Taruin glanced into them apprehensively, but didn't see anything apart from his own hazy reflection. 

A mild jerk announced their landing onto the planet. Taruin scrambled onto his feet hastily, throwing occasional wary yet sympathetic glances at the boy. The young man was still like rock, unnaturally still. Taruin wasn't sure if the boy even noticed their landing. Taruin wasn't sure about anything. He couldn't understand what was going on and had no desire to unravel this mystery. The only thing he wanted was to be on the other side of the galaxy. 

Pausing at the door he turned. "I'll umm… go now," he said uncertainly. 

The lifeless eyes shifted to rest on him, and for a moment he thought he saw a tiny sparkle in them. But no, it was only his imagination. 

With a sigh Taruin left for the cockpit. Whatever they wanted with this boy was clearly not good for him. And the more he thought of it the more he wanted to help. But he was as bound as the boy was.

*********************

Frozen in his place Obi-Wan stood, his eyes locked with the other two eyes - one black, empty, and dead, the other green and completely insane. All his thoughts had left him in a tangled torrent of fear.

For a moment - a moment of bone-chilling coldness and deafening silence when even the birds seemed to stop singing - their eyes stayed locked, as though the man was studying Obi-Wan curiously, looking through his eyes into his very soul. Somehow Obi-Wan knew that this man possessed unimaginable powers, and it seemed ridiculous to think that the man might use them on some deed in the name of goodness. 

Cold silence instilled in the hot, suffocating summer air of the valley, and everything stopped to exist. Eternity squeezed itself into a moment, and moment stretched into eternity. Obi-Wan held his breath, feeling himself a puppet in the man's hands. He didn't know what the other would do to him, but was perfectly aware that he had nothing to put up against this man, against his powers. Not even the Force would help him. And then...

... then the bright green mad eye winked at him playfully, and the man turned away, breaking eye contact. Obi-Wan took a breath that sounded more like a gasp. Cold tendrils of sharp fear that had him in their clutches slowly started to creep away, letting the warmth of the summer evening fill the boy's limbs.

A hand lowered onto his right shoulder causing Obi-Wan to jump in surprise. He quickly turned his head to see a tall man, wearing a ridiculous checkered jacket, gray straight pants and small round hat.

"Don't you worry, fellow," the bizarre man said in a suddenly high-pitched, though definitely male voice. 

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to say something, but was cut short by another hand that lowered onto his left shoulder.

"We don't mean you any harm," the soothing baritone of another man said. This man looked even more ridiculous than the first one - short, with red disheveled hair and a torn jacket. But his eyes... They were black as a bottomless abyss, leading to nowhere but darkness. 

"Asasello and I will show you the way back to your home," the first man spoke, making odd faces all the while as though he couldn't keep his face straight.

"But why?" Obi-Wan asked, unable to contain his curiosity, tired of all the mysteries that swirled around him like a bunch of hungry fish around their prey.

"Why?!" the checkered man laughed loudly, startling birds on the nearby tree. "He asks 'why'?!" He slapped himself on his knees as though this was the funniest question he had ever heard.

"Because Master Woland* told us to," the man called Asasello explained patiently, paying no attention to his colleague, who continued to writhe in the fits of wild laughter. 

"But why would he do such a thing?" Obi-Wan asked, deciding to follow the example and ignore the laughing man. To his surprise the checkered man answered instead of Asasello.

"Because Lady Fate has some plans for you. And since Mister Woland won the last set they played in poker he decided to make her a little favour, bringing you back to where you belong. Are you delighted?"

Obi-Wan wasn't sure how to respond. The two men took him under his arms and started to lead him straight into a tree.

"Uh, are you sure we should go that way?" Obi-Wan asked his unexpected companions. "There's a tree and..."

"Haven't you learned anything?" the checkered man interrupted, making a mockingly stern face. He clicked his fingers loudly, and the tree disappeared. "See? There's no tree. You see just what you want to see."

The alley was starting to get crowded. The Padawan looked around to gauge the reaction of people around them to the sudden disappearance of the tree. To his surprised no one even looked the way of the weird trio as though they didn't exist.

Obi-Wan looked at both men, who accompanied him, comparing them. They both seemed to have some kind of power - nothing compared to the power of that man, Woland, but power nevertheless. Power no human possessed. But were they really human? Obi-Wan had a strong feeling they were not. The checkered man smiled at him with a tight smile and nodded. Looking at him Obi-Wan thought that for a moment he saw sadness lurking deep in his eyes.

"Drink this," Asasello suddenly said, forcing a large cup into Obi-Wan's hands. The young man never noticed where Asasello had gotten it from.

"What is it?" Obi-Wan asked a bit suspiciously, sniffing the hot spicy aroma.

"Not a poison, you bet," the checkered one laughed.

"Just drink it," Asasello said in a plain voice, which, though, implied no further discussion.

Looking suspiciously at the dirty brown drink in the cup, Obi-Wan took a tentative sip... and immediately spit it out in disgust.

"It tastes like... like cockroaches with slugs!" he exclaimed.

"Have you ever tasted them to recognize them this easily?" the checkered man asked and doubled in laughter.

"Fagot, make it drinkable," Asasello ordered.

"Whatever you say, buddy." Never stopping to laugh - Obi-Wan wasn't even sure if he paused to take a breath - the man clicked his fingers loudly. The action produced a flash of pale green and... nothing happened.

"Damn! I need more practice!" Fagot exclaimed in an over complaining voice. Obi-Wan got an impression he was ready to burst into tears, but his eyes were still laughing.

"Stop playing a clown and make it right." Asasello's voice acquired a menacing tint to it.

"OK, OK." Another click of fingers, another flash - this time much brighter. Obi-Wan almost dropped the cup as it suddenly became hot. But next moment it was cool again.

"Cherry," Fagot said with satisfaction.

Obi-Wan wasn't sure what 'cherry' was. Under the stern gaze - almost glare - of Asasello he sipped tentatively at the drink. To his surprise it tasted rather good. He downed the cup. As soon as the last drop of liquid rolled from the cup onto his lips the cup disappeared, causing him clutch an empty air. He looked at his empty hand curiously but didn't say anything.

"Let's not waste any more time," Asasello said coldly and took Obi-Wan's left elbow. 

Fagot swirled a cane that mysteriously appeared in his hand and drew a line on the dirty ground. Immediately the line started to glow with a pale white light. Having done this Fagot put the cane into his pocket. The pocket was much too small for something that size, but Obi-Wan, taught by experience, didn't comment on it. He simply tried to be not too surprised. 

Together they crossed the line, and the warm summer evening turned into familiar cold place of nothingness. But this time Obi-Wan wasn't alone here. He glanced at his companions - and almost recoiled. The ridiculous man called Fagot changed drastically. Now the man to the right from Obi-Wan was a gloomy knight, dressed in violet. His face looked like it never knew a smile. To the right from Obi-Wan was someone even worse. His shining armor was almost blinding. Both of his eyes were empty and black. A killer demon - was the only way Obi-Wan could call him. 

"He's learning to see things as they are, huh?" Fagot said looking at Obi-Wan's suddenly pale face.

Obi-Wan gulped. He wished that their journey would end as soon as possible. He wasn't sure how much of this he could take before going insane. 

And abruptly it all came to an end. Obi-Wan and his companions - back in their less frightening appearances - stood on the threshold of a small room Obi-Wan didn't recognize. It took him a while to realize they were not standing on the threshold or rather inside the wall. But what really threw him off balance was… himself, sitting on the dirty floor with a bowed head. 

"So what are you waiting for?" Fagot asked, nudging the young man a little. 

Hesitantly Obi-Wan took a step forward.  _What if it doesn't work? Am I… like a ghost now? What if I stay like this forever?_  He looked back at Asasello and Fagot as though seeking some reassurance. Fagot nodded. Obi-Wan took another step forward, then sat down next to his copy, or rather his body. 

"How do I do this?" he asked, looking at himself, curiosity winning over fear.

"Shift so that you are at the same place as he is," Asasello supplied in a plain tone.

Obi-Wan shifted a bit and raised his head to look once again at his weird companions. Then he moved into the same pose his body had. 

 _Please, please, make it work!_  he pleaded silently.

*******************

* Woland as a character belongs to Bulgakov


	23. Chapter 23

Sorry, **Cerasi5**, I didn't really mean to confuse you (or maybe I did). Take it as a sort of fairy tale ;-)

**Athena Leigh**, and I wrote this story. Now who's weird here :D

Glad you, people, like. And here's some more.

~*~*~*~*~

Having been welcomed by a toothy smile that looked more like a sneer Kamon and Namira were ushered into a spacious old-furnished room with tall windows framed with heavy velvet curtains. The windows, however, could barely produce enough light to dissipate the dusk, lurking in the corners. 

A disturbing sight greeted them here. An old man – who was not too old in years but apparently had aged prematurely by some tragedy – was sitting in a hoverchair with a mournful expression plastered firmly on his face. His features bore a striking resemblance to Namira's face, though his face was neither young nor lovely being schooled into an expression of grim despair. [i]_Is this Namira's father?_[/i] Kamon wondered. He tried to remember what he knew about the man, and as the memory surged up it all clicked together. Indeed it had been a terrible tragedy that painted his hair white and took away his ability to walk. Apparently it had been the death of his wife that stole the spark of life from his eyes. Eyes that were surrounded by a thin net of fine lines, eyes that had been, apparently, once full of mirth, but held now only sorrow and great weariness.

A bunch of people dressed in black surrounded the hoverchair the head of Imata House was condemned to use for the rest of his life in a tight circle, hovering around the man like kites. The man – a prisoner in his own house – raised his weary eyes slowly at the sound of the opening door, and a look of total dejection came over his face as he saw who the newcomers were. 

"Father!" Namira exclaimed, jerking to run forward, but cut short by an iron-like grip around her elbow.

The old man's hand pulled at controls, trying to send the hoverchair forward, only to be stopped by one of the guards. An almost hate crossed the old man's features, twisting them momentarily into a mask of revulsion, flashed in his eyes – sky-blue like Namira's, but hardened by experience.

"Well ,well," the man who brought them here – apparently the leader of the group – said, all but dragging Namira to a heavy wooden chair placed at a low polished table. "Our runaway friends have finally come to the nestle." He shoved the girl into the chair none too gently and motioned for the guards to surround the young Jedi who was still standing at the door. "Let's see, I believe there's something you should sign." The man fiddled with papers in a mockingly careless manner, looking straight into Namira's face with ice-cold brown eyes, as though trying to pin her down like a mot. Finally he pushed a flimsy to the girl who stared at him with wide eyes full of terror. Kamon could feel waves of nervousness, almost panic, radiating from Namira. Even a non Force-sensitive could have picked on her feelings from her rigid stature and the way she tried to hide her trembling hands. But then something shifted in the Force, and Namira took a deep breath, as though coming to a conclusion.

"I…" her voice was thin, and she coughed, blushing slightly. But she managed to pull herself together with a visible effort. "I will not sign anything," she said, firmer this time.

With an icy smile that never reached his eyes the man pointed his blaster at Namira's father. "And if I ask… [i]_really hard_[/i]?" he taunted. 

In the deadly silence that fell upon the room Namira's sharp breathing echoed loudly. The air was full of fear and uncertainty that lay around like a heavy cloak. Kamon could see hesitation on Namira's face. Doubt in her eyes. She was wavering. Her eyes left her father's figure to turn to Kamon as though asking his counsel. But what advice could he give? Had he even the right to give any advice at all? No. His was not the right to make decisions. He could only support whatever decision she made. 

And support she needed, it was clear. Slowly Kamon reached into the Force, severely wishing that it would work, and touched Namira's shoulder with the warm tendril of compassion. The girl started slightly at the touch, but then Kamon saw realization dawn in her eyes, quickly followed by gratitude. He never even wondered that she, being absolutely blind to the Force, could feel his touch, experience his support. He only rejoiced in the newly found connection.

"I will never sign anything you want," Namira declared in an almost regal tone, startling the man with the blaster for a moment. 

But only for a moment. 

Kamon saw tears well up in the eyes of her father, tears he first mistook for those of regret, but those were tears of pride. And Kamon was proud, too. Until…

A shrill warning of the Force jerked him back into the harsh reality. In slow motion Kamon saw the sneering man pull the trigger. With a Force-enhanced speed the young Jedi rushed forward… and knew he was too late. In a flash of light the blaster bolt hit the old man straight in the chest, sending the hoverchair swirling back with the momentum. A wild woman's cry of grief resonated throughout the large room, reverberating in the air until the echo of it slowly died away in the darkened corners.  

Next moment the quiet and noble room turned into a complete mess as the nine men tried to seize one Jedi boy, having no regard for any obstacle on their path. Finally they managed to grip him, terminating all of his attempts for struggle. Kamon, beaten and detained but not broken, looked at Namira and was struck by the image he saw to the core of his heart. A quivering girl, kneeling next to her dead father sprawled on the floor, stroking his face and hair with feather-like touches as though afraid to hurt him; tears streaming down her pale cheeks – an embodiment of grief. The last thing he saw before being dragged away were her huge tearful eyes, troubled like stormy waters of a great ocean.

**********************

Qui-Gon strained his eyes, trying vainly to see through the thick emerald foliage of tropical forest below his ship. He indomitably tried to catch a sparkle of a ship's surface, a glimpse of something like a lone house, at least anything that would hint at the kidnapers' location, but the exuberant flora of the tropic wood concealed everything perfectly. He, the ever largest admirer of the Living Force in all its variety, wanted nothing but one - that all this profuse greenery would go to hell and let him find his apprentice. 

He had made a circle around the planet, painstakingly exploring every inch as best he could. But he had come to only one conclusion: the people he was looking for were not on the snow-covered rocks of the poles. That left the woods, covering most of the planet's surface. Endless kilometers of woods. Desperation was steadily creeping up in him, taking away more and more of his determination with every passing minute. He fought it vehemently, never wishing to give up. But the obstinate ugly head of despondency appeared again and again, more candid each time. 

"I will NOT give up," Qui-Gon grumbled through clenched teeth, straining his eyes for the hundredth time. His vision had long since lost its clarity from looking at the emerald brilliance of the forest below. But he was still straining his eyes, loath to admit it was useless.

The planet was scarcely populated, and the Jedi Master had already contacted all the settlements, asking about the landing ships – and got a negative reply everywhere. Not trusting their information completely – or the informants for that matter – he had flown over each settlement, searching the open landing pads for any sign of a republic-designed space ship, searching the Force for any trace of a Dark Jedi. And finding none. 

Pausing his taxing search for a minute, Qui-Gon leaned back in his chair, closing his abused eyes wearily, letting the ship hover over the tops of the gigantic trees. What if he didn't find his Padawan? The thought drove a needle of a twisting raw pain into his heart. How many times had he come to being close to losing Obi-Wan? So many. Way too many! Then why did it hurt so much each and every time? It had always ended with him having his pada- his son back. So far. But how long would it continue? How long would they be so lucky? Wouldn't it be different this time?

Forcefully Qui-Gon jerked himself out of his loser thoughts. He shook his head, trying to clear it. He wouldn't let himself travel down that path. He would have faith! 

With a new resolve the Master straightened in his chair – and felt razor-sharp blinding pain cut through his scull. Instinctively he clutched his head with both hands. His first thought was that he had straightened too quickly, and he wondered if he was getting too old. Another surge of pain crushed into him, throwing his head back as if it were a physical blow. A wave of fear rolled over him, drowning him momentarily, but it was quickly replaced by an even more intense pain. 

"Wh-a-t is th-is?" he moaned, not hearing his own voice through the pounding of blood in his ears.

A new pain exploded in his head, sending him tumbling onto the floor. He struggled against burning nails that seemed to pierce the very core of his being. He could barely see anything through the bloody haze that clouded his eyes. Abruptly his body started to convulse under the mysterious brutal assault. A minute later the Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn stilled, lying crumpled on the floor of the ship that continued to hover silently like a ghost over the lush forest. 

*****************

Still hesitating but resigning himself for whatever the future held Obi-Wan moved from the wall he was standing in – he tried hard not to think about how exactly it worked that he was [i]_inside_[/i] the wall – to fit into the physical version of himself. Immediately an enormous surge of power overflowed him, starting from his body as a whole, then splitting to affect him on a molecular level, merging every cell of his physical body with his astral projection. The dark dirty room suddenly seemed ablaze with myriads of colours, and the young Jedi closed his eyes against the intolerable brilliance. However, even closed eyes didn't save him from the assault of grinding light that stung his eyes even through the tightly shut eyelids. A new unimaginable power slammed into him next, sending his grasp on reality, time and dimension into the abyss of tangled threads. For a moment he felt as though a cocoon had been wrapped around him, tightening, twisting. Then a string sharp like a needle pierced his mind, eliciting a cry from his tightly squeezed lips. 

And then it was all gone.

Carefully the young man cracked one eye open the slightest bit. [i]_Did it work or not? Did it? Or not?_[/i] a steady beat of thought sounded in his mind. Not seeing anything special he opened his eyes fully – only to promptly shut them again as the harsh blinding light assaulted the retinas of his eyes. The numbness in his body and spirit started to fade, and one by one the senses started to return. Carefully Obi-Wan probed each of them, finding his reactions extremely, even painfully keen. At last he opened himself to the Force…

And immediately regretted it. Never in his life had he been stripped of all his shields fully; not even in his early childhood when he hadn't known anything about shields but still had some of them up, instinctively. Never had he experienced such a connection to the Force, to all the living beings – who seemed to take residence in zillions here – wherever here was. The radiance of the Force, the depth of it overwhelmed him, sending a cascade of raw power straight through his already worn out mind. But the next instant things taught to him from infancy kicked in, and the basic fraction of his shields slammed up automatically, lessening the Force's power to a manageable level – if only barely manageable. 

Sighing softly at the welcomed calmness, he shifted a bit. He had no clue why all his shields had been suddenly gone, as he had no clue where he was. Tentatively he reached into himself, to the core of his being, to bring up more of the shields for he wasn't sure if he was able to survive without them. The shields went up immediately, much to his relief, blocking out the intolerable keenness of the ambient world. 

Obi-Wan opened his eyes, welcoming the mild darkness that filled them now, and searched out his companions. He found them standing at the far wall – if anything could be called 'far' in the tiny cell without windows where even the air seemed to be pressed around him like a heavy blanket. Fagot winked at him, making an odd face while Asasello simply nodded his head with something akin to satisfaction flickering briefly in his dark eyes. Then they simply vanished, leaving behind just a memory. 

Feeling strangely forlorn Obi-Wan turned his attention onto himself, noting with dismay that his wrists and ankles were bound tightly with a grubby rope and that something cold and metallic was twisted around his throat. Feeling suddenly exhausted to the point of falling asleep the young Jedi reached his hands to try to unbind his ankles, only to have an electro-shock send him staggering back against the wall. Cautiously he raised his hands to touch the metal ribbon around his neck. An electric collar. And a holo-cam in the upper corner. Sighing he reached into the Force only to have it slip right through his fingers like fine sand. The incredible connection to the Force he had experienced only moments before seemed to have sank into oblivion.

"Wonderful," he muttered, unable to contain his displeasure.

His limbs felt numb, from being tied for a long time, he supposed. How long had he been 'away' anyway? Nothing around him sprang out at him to give him the answer so he reached for his memories and almost jumped in shock. He had memories of both his otherworldly journey and his body's memories of what had happened during his 'absence'. What he couldn't tell, though, was how much time had passed. Were it hours or days, he had no measuring instrument of time at his disposal. 

He considered his options and found them to be very few. Particularly: to stay here and wait either for something to happen or for his strength to return – whichever comes first.

*****************

Anisa looked down at the planet - Amaltea was it? - that loomed before their ship. They had followed the kidnappers here, had watched them land amid the lush prosperity of the tropical forest. 

_[i]A great hideout,[/i]_ Anisa thought with a malicious smile. [i]_Given that no one knows about it, of course.[/i]_

She turned in her chair to look at her companion again. Pale blond hair shone with a matte glow in the cockpit's illumination; deep steely-gray eyes stared intensely at the control panel. His whole figure spoke of might and grace. Some would call him handsome, but as a soulhunter Anisa had an ability to glance into his soul. And she wouldn't ever call him even nice for what she saw in his soul were total blackness and corruption. 

Of course, she wasn't all that white and clean herself. She remembered all she had done, working for Arones, and to her dismay she didn't really feel disgusted, though she knew there was nothing to be proud of. But she was still the same person, and one deed, no matter how changing, couldn't make her someone else. 

Perhaps in time… 

She turned her eyes away to stare at the viewport yet again.

Snadi directed the ship down, almost touching swaying treetops with its polished belly. After about a minute of the low flight the man suddenly slammed the control buttons. The ship shuddered and jerked but obediently hurtled down in an almost vertical fall. For a moment Anisa thought they were going to crush into the ground, and fear gripped her heart with a chilly hand. But at the last second possible Snadi stopped the fall, and with a screeching sound the ship froze on spot having ploughed a deep line in the moist soil. Anisa huffed a sigh, threading her trembling slim fingers through her hair.

"What was that? An attempt to impress me?" she asked with cockiness she didn't feel. She desperately needed to disguise her fright. And wasn't attack the best defense?

Snadi gave her a cold glare, but something in his eyes made her pull her jacket tighter around herself. 

"Get ready," he threw at her, exiting the cockpit. Were those mocking notes she heard in his voice? How dare he?! Angrily she got up from her chair and slammed the button hard to open the cockpit door. Finding a vent for her recent fear in pointless aggression she cooled somewhat. She walked a few steps to a little room to change into a more suited clothes she had with her in a small bag, wondering if it had been so good an idea to call Snadi. And concluded it was not. She would need to get rid of him. No, not kill him, just get away from him. The sooner the better. She only needed to think of a way to do so. With these thoughts she pushed a button to open the door to a tiny room.

Anisa pulled on a black shirt and paused, looking at her reflection in a wall mirror. She looked like a pirate woman from a holovid. Black fitting dress, black knee-high boots. Dark brown with flames of red streaks hair disheveled over her shoulders. That would not do. She gathered them into a single braid and coiled it into a tight bun on the back of her head. The last detail: she pulled black thin leather gloves on her hands. She had always owned these gloves, but never used them – until now. Somehow she was glad she had never used them for something dishonest. Exquisite as the gloves were it seemed almost a blasphemy to use them in something dissolute. She looked herself over again. Yes, she did look like a pirate from a holovid. But this was no holovid, was it? 

She checked her blaster, put it in a stun mode and placed it into a holster on the leather belt that embraced her slender hips. Throwing one last glance in the mirror, she walked briskly out of the room and came nose to nose with Snadi. 

"Ready?" he asked, looking her over with something akin to hunger, lurking deep in his light eyes.

She looked steadily up at him. "Yes."

Without another word he turned and went to the ship's hatch. Anisa followed, uncomfortable. With a loud swish the hatch opened, letting heavy and moist forest air flow inside in waves. Snadi jumped down onto the ground like a wild feline – graceful and deadly. His black cloak fluttered on the wind. Anisa landed lightly next to him.

Stealthily they crept through the forest, trying to make as little noise as they could – two hunters on a rescue mission. Anisa smiled at the thought.

Before long, they reached the camp where abductors hid. Moving a large leave aside Anisa peered cautiously from behind a huge extensive bush. At least half a dozen beings, humans and aliens, were walking about their business on a shaded clearing, covered from above by voluminous leaves of bordering trees. 

"What are we going to do now?" Anisa whispered to her companion.

"Break in," he whispered back, and even in his whisper she heard the mocking notes. He was mocking her! She raised her hand in an irrational and fervent desire to slap him, but her hand stopped in mid-air as he stood up. She followed suit and froze watching him. Calmly the ex-Jedi walked into the open. The guards at the camp didn't detect him until he made at least two steps forward. Finally noticing the intruder, they stared silently at first, his blunt manner throwing them off balance. But they quickly recovered, drawing their blasters and pointing them at Snadi, who didn't even flinch. The guards didn't pay any heed to Anisa, focusing all their attention on the black visage of the former Jedi before them. [i]_Is he mind-tricking them somehow?_[/i] Anisa wondered. She had heard Jedi could do that.

The first blaster shot echoed loudly throughout the glade, followed immediately by a snap-hiss. A red lightning flashed in the air. Anisa instinctively took a step back. Was this a lightsaber? She had never seen them before but was sure it was one. Blaster fire erupted, and for a second Anisa thought that the guards would kill Snadi right there – surely one can't survive under the blaster fire of six trained men. She couldn't say she was very unhappy about the prospect, though. 

But the next moment it was over, and she knew she was very wrong. Six men were lying on the ground dead or dying, and Snadi was standing in the midst of them like an ancient god of death. Cautiously Anisa approached him, looking down at the defeated men. Some of them bore blaster wounds, some had deep glaring burned cuts. 

Not looking at her Snadi proceeded towards a stone run-down house the roof of which was completely covered by huge leaves of the surrounding trees. With a wave of his hand he slammed the door open, not caring about the noise it produced. Anisa drew her blaster, determined to not let him kill people when they could be stunned. 

In the next few minutes the sunny day turned into a nightmare. People and aliens ran at the couple of intruders to only be thrown down either by a stunning blaster bolt or by a hissing and flashing red lightsaber. The narrow corridor turned into a scene of carnage in an instant. Snadi walked forward, never wavering, never hesitating. [i]_How does he know where to go?[/i]_ Anisa wondered, but didn't dare ask. She had a strong feeling that if she asked he might turn on her and kill her as well. The raging fire in his eyes only served to strengthen her unpleasant hunch.

No one was attacking them anymore, but Snadi didn't extinguish his lightsaber, striding forward self-assuredly. An unarmed man came up before the Dark Jedi. With a wide swipe Snadi slashed the man before him, letting him fall to the floor and kicking the body aside with the end of his boot. Then he calmly hung his weapon onto his belt.

This was the last straw for Anisa. "Why?! Why did you do this?!" she cried, not caring if someone heard her. "He wasn't even armed!"

Snadi looked at her with cold curiosity as though she were a lower life form that forgot its place and tried to attack a predator. Anisa chocked on her angry words and backed away from him. An icy smirk cracked his lips, and Anisa shivered. Without a single word Snadi walked a few steps to a dirty gray door and opened it. On wobbly legs Anisa followed him. 

She peeked inside the room to see the familiar incredible blue-green eyes staring back at her. Something clicked inside her. Forgetting about Snadi she ran inside and crouched next to Obi-Wan, trying to untie him, murmuring something softly in a fit of incredible and unexpected relief. As soon as she freed his hands she started to untie his ankles. A sudden snort made her raise her head and look at Snadi who was still standing in the door-frame, blocking what little light was coming from the corridor. A dirty smirk played on his face, his eyes glowing in the darkness.

"So, you are Obi-Wan Kenobi." It wasn't a question. Obi-Wan looked at the man, narrowing his eyes. "I am looking for an apprentice, you know," Snadi proceeded almost nonchalantly. 

"I will never turn to the Dark Side," Obi-Wan said firmly, getting up from the floor. Anisa got up as well, some sixth sense telling her to run - fast. Only there was nowhere to run.

"So sure? And what if I kill her?" Snadi pointed a finger at Anisa, startling her. 

Obi-Wan glanced at her with something shaded deep in his eyes, then returned them to the Dark Jedi. "I will not let you."

Red light basked the tiny room in crimson. 

"Really?"

********************


	24. Chapter 24

Thanks, **Athena Leigh**. Guess it'll be the last cliffhanger in the story.

I'm glad you like, **Cerasi5**. And some of them are still poor in this chapter *Makes an evil face*

Welcome to the club of weird people, **Saran** :-) And thanks

Here's a post for all of you.

~*~*~*~*~

Obi-Wan looked around helplessly, searching for some kind of a weapon, anything to protect himself and the young woman next to him from the raging Dark Jedi. But the tiny cell held no weapon, and with a sinking feeling the Padawan realized that most likely they wouldn't get out of here alive. How was an unarmed eighteen-year-old Jedi apprentice supposed to fend of an armed adult man, who was much more skilled in combat and Force-usage? The answer was hanging in the air, simple as ever – no way. 

An untamed panic washed over him, drowning him in its merciless blackness. Heart racing in his chest like it would jump out any minute, Obi-Wan gathered all the Force's power he could and threw out his hand, sending the Force at the dark killer. But the Dark Jedi was already moving to the side, the red 'saber cracking ominously in the stifling air of the cell. 

In turn, Snadi sent a crashing blow at the young Jedi, which was supposed to catch him square in the chest, but didn't. Obi-Wan was out of the way milliseconds before the fist reached its target. Feeling encouraged by Snadi's failure to catch him, Obi-Wan threw him a mocking glance and saw the steely eyes light up with fury. 

Lightsaber came down seemingly out of nowhere in a wide swipe, but Obi-Wan dodged it. He tried to catch Snadi's legs, but the dark one twisted out of his grip. The two of them faced each other again, completely forgetting about the woman who stood pressed into the corner, looking at them with wide green eyes that were ruled by an unveiled panic.

The two combatants started to move simultaneously, performing something that might have been a perfectly choreographed dance but was a lethal battle. Red flashed in the dusk of the room, cutting, slashing, weaving a pattern of death. The young Jedi seemed but a blurry whirlwind, filling the scarce space of the room with splashes of beige. 

Adrenaline filled Obi-Wan's tired body, giving him new, badly-needed strength. He concentrated on the battle, giving himself wholly to it, not sparing a single bit of concentration to anything else. The world stopped to exist – only the fight and the need to win, the need to survive left.

Suddenly Obi-Wan remembered that they weren't alone here – and he glanced at Anisa. Belatedly, he realized his mistake as the 'saber came down on him, using the moment of distraction. A black blur rushed forward to insert itself between the deadly crimson blade and the young body it was bound to cut. Two screams mixed in one – a scream of denial and a scream of pain. But the echo of it was drowned out by the low grumble of a starship's engines. 

The three froze in a mute surprise. Then the two Force-sensitives reached into the Force simultaneously. The bright strong presence abruptly filled their minds, causing one heart to leap in joy and one mouth to swear in anger and fright.

"Jinn!" Snadi spat, turning on his heels. He was gone in a flash of a Force-enhanced run. 

Not loosing a second Obi-Wan kneeled next to Anisa, who lay crumpled on the floor, breathing heavily. An ugly burn marred her right side, torn material exposing the charred vulnerable flesh. At Obi-Wan's touch she opened her eyes, and he was struck with the intensity of pain he saw in their green murky depth. 

She coughed, suffocating in the stuffy air of the cell. "Get me out of here," she said hoarsely, almost pleadingly.

With a curt nod he scooped her gently in his arms, aiding himself with the Force – with what tattered scraps of it he could gather. 

Deep in his mind Obi-Wan wished Qui-Gon would come and offer his strength and comfort – the Padawan could barely stand, let alone carry Anisa's weight, no matter how light she was. But as the Master didn't seem to be in a hurry to appear out of nowhere and offer his help, Obi-Wan continued to move on his own. 

 _Appear out of nowhere. What a weird thought! Have I gotten so used to people coming out of thin air – virtually – that I now expect my Master to do the same?_  He knew it was not the best time to wonder about such things but he needed to forget about his stiff limbs, about his aching arms and incredible weariness. The only thing he wanted was to sit down, close his eyes and vanish. Stop feeling anything for at least a few minutes. But he could not afford such luxury, and so he moved onward stubbornly. 

He didn't even notice when they came out of the dark and dirty house out into the glade, covered with blinking and shifting pattern of shadows and patches of light. Obi-Wan suddenly knew that he could move no longer. Carefully he lowered Anisa onto the soft emerald grass. She moaned quietly and opened her eyes. Obi-Wan found himself staring into the shaded green orbs – just like in the club the whole lifetime ago…

Then she looked away.

"I hope you will be all right," Obi-Wan said, kneeling next to her, trying to catch her eyes again.

"Hope is a stupid feeling, Jedi," she said in an unexpectedly tired voice – as if a heavy burden had been placed on her soul, one she could never get rid of. Her face was still beautiful, but it was more of a mask – like a marble statue – than a beauty of a living being. Her eyes – suddenly huge and bright with some internal power – finally found his, and he felt himself pinned by the gaze of this helpless woman. The woman that wanted to take his soul. The woman that saved his life. 

"Why did you do it?" he asked her then. "Why did you save me?"

She laughed at that, her laughter turning into agonized coughing fit. 

"Don't you know what you are? Haven't anyone told you how much light you carry inside?" He looked at her, worry and confusion mixing on his face. "Yes, the light…" her voice became wistful, then she trailed off staring somewhere behind his back.

He again took in her lovely features and then, in a jolt of insight, he knew that she was going to die. And also he knew that he couldn't let her die. He remembered how she started to take his soul away. And now, he knew, he could save her. And he knew how: he could give her his soul. He leaned to her, not hesitating – not even for a heartbeat – and closed his lips over hers. He could feel it again, that feeling he experienced when they first kissed – and then with a surprising strength she shoved him away.

"What do you think you are doing?" she croaked, her voice hoarse. 

"Not letting you die. You are going to die, aren't you?" he looked at her defiantly.

"No, pretty Jedi, you are trying to trade my life for yours," she smiled at him and he saw both admiration and reproach in her eyes. "But don't… My life is not worth it."

"Every life is worth saving," he argued, already knowing that he had lost, but not willing to give up.

"What about your own life?"

The noise in the forest indicated that the ship was landing somewhere close.

"Go," she said. "Go and may your Force save you."

"I will return for you. They will find a way to save you." He stood up and, giving her one last reassuring glance, ran into the woods to get his Master. 

Five minutes later the two Jedi returned to the clearing… only to find the soulhunter gone. Feeling suddenly empty inside, Obi-Wan sat down onto the grass and stared at the place she had been lying on. He sat there silently until a heavy warm hand lowered onto his shoulder.

"Obi-Wan," the quiet voice of Qui-Gon said. And in those two syllables the Padawan felt all the compassion, love and support the tall Master held for him.

Without a word the young man stood up and looked into the midnight-blue eyes that he knew so well. Abruptly the world seemed to fade away, and he was falling, expecting to meet the hard ground but meeting two strong gentle arms instead. 

"Careful, Padawan." The words reached him as though from a mist. He suddenly knew he was save and he let this knowledge wash over him, fill his whole being, giving in to the merciful darkness of sleep.

*****************

Stars flowed slowly outside the viewport, throwing the lazy gaze of their brilliant eyes at the old battered ship that ventured into the velvet blackness of space. But the two people inside the ship paid no attention to the indifferent beauty outside their little transport.

Qu-Gon looked at the serene face of his sleeping apprentice, basked in a pale warm halo of one of the two suns Allura system was blessed with. The liquid radiance, originated from the harsh sunrays, refracted through the paristeel windows of the small sleeping chamber of the old and rusty Correlian ship, seemed to wrap itself around the still form on the bench. The young body under the blankets, so carefully wrapped around it, would soon heal from… Qui-Gon wasn't sure what exactly it was his padawan needed to heal from. The grounded quality of his mind prevented him from venturing into the realm of unknown and supernatural, whispering to him that such ideas were nothing but fairy tales for those who seek to believe in wonders. He, the venerable Jedi Master, never ranked himself into that category, and – though he would never realize it – he would deny the miracle even should it happen right under his nose. Such was Qui-Gon Jinn. 

The form under the warm blanket shifted, explicating a soft murmur, a weak protest against the ghosts of dreams that held him in their illusive embraces. The Master stiffened, ready to offer any support should one be required, but the child awashed in the brilliance of light – Qui-Gon was ready to believe the light didn't only come from the sun outside, but from the boy himself – stilled again in a blissful slumber. The child. His child. Qui-Gon's heart ached with sweet pain, blunt and raw but oh so pleasant. This pain was much more than he had ever expected to feel – again. And he was grateful to the Force for letting him experience it. And he wondered if all the parents – the loving parents – experienced such pain, looking at their children, watching them sleep. 

Tentatively Qui-Gon reached out his hand to stroke the gentle silkness of Obi-Wan's hair but stopped it in mid-air, loath to disturb such a perfect vision. He felt that touching the boy now would be to intrude into the shining world of light and Force that seemed to have formed around the young man – who was happily ignorant of all this. So the Master settled back in his chair, content to watch and stand guard of his padawan's sleep. And to remember, for there was much to remember.

****************

Allura met the small transport with a happy blaze of ever-present sun – whichever of the two suns it was. The familiar spaceport was already looming ahead when Qui-Gon heard the soft padding of footsteps behind his back.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, giving his apprentice a small smile, which almost hid in his beard. 

If anything, Obi-Wan looked as though he had just came out of his room back at the Temple – sleepy, with the disheveled hair, still wrapped in the voluminous brown warm blanket that hang on him like some toga, trailing behind him on the floor. 

"Uh-huh," the young man yawned widely, then lowered himself into a copilot's seat and gazed outside. "Allura?"

The older man nodded. The boy looked serene, but the Master knew better. He could almost feel the struggle, the attempts to appear calm while the memory of that woman – Qui-Gon frowned – the woman who almost took his soul and life – the memory held his heart in turmoil. Qui-Gon had no idea of what had transpired in the last few hours preceding his reunion with his padawan, but it was clear for him that something drastic had happened, something that made Obi-Wan's attitude to Anisa turn to complete opposite. And it was not only something in the relationship of the two, it was something within the apprentice himself. 

For a moment Qui-Gon considered the bond they shared. It was… shaky, if such a term could be applied to the mental link. However, it was no wonder – Qui-Gon was fairly surprised to find the bond working at all after it had been ripped like that. The return of the bond had been unexpected and unpleasant, to say the least. Qui-Gon rubbed his forehead slightly in vain attempt to drive away the illusive remnants of pain. Catching Obi-Wan's concerned glance the Master smiled reassuringly.

"Do you remember anything from after…" The look on Obi-Wan's face told Qui-Gon he didn't need to continue.

"Well… I do remember something, pretty much in fact." A quick glance at the older man. "I remember how you talked to me and all…" Qui-Gon nodded, urging him on. "And I also remember something else. I was in a place… many places…" The boy paused, choosing the words. "There was nothing at first. I mean really nothing. I wasn't even there… And then I got into a world where I met that man – Loiso. He was weird and… we talked. And then I went to many other places trying to find the right door…" Obi-Wan looked at Qui-Gon, uncertainty clouding his eyes. 

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said gently, laying his hand on the boy's shoulder. "You saw a very interesting dream. But it was just a dream. It wasn't real."

The hurt that briefly surfaced in Obi-Wan's expressive eyes told the Master that he wasn't gentle enough. 

"It was not a dream," Obi-Wan argued.

"Padawan," Qui-Gon made his voice sound gentle but firm and immediately saw the effect this kind of voice had on the boy – Obi-Wan closed his mouth and stared down at his hands.

 _He believes something has happened to him while… But that's a total gibberish! How can he believe in a fancy like that? Perhaps a mind-healer… Yes, when we're back at the Temple..._  Satisfied with his plan Qui-Gon guided the ship to a smooth landing, not paying much attention to the pout that took residence on his apprentice's face.

***********************


	25. Chapter 25

And here is another chapter – the last one. 

**Cerasi5**, I have included the last part especially for you ;-)

Thank you, **Athena**.

~*~*~*~*~

The closer they got to the magnificent building of the business-center the more some vague uneasiness grew in Obi-Wan. The seemingly baseless heaviness in his heart slowly shaped out into a full-blown premonition. Something was dreadfully wrong – and it threatened to become irreparably wrong any given moment. But what it was remained a mystery, veiled by the shroud of ignorance, and his inability to be more specific frustrated and annoyed the Padawan greatly. 

However before Obi-Wan could form the words to describe his elusive feelings to try if Qui-Gon would accept his premonition this time their air taxi descended onto the gleaming on the sun metallic landing platform.

"Here we are," the driver said, giving them a wink and raising a brow that suggested they should pay.

Qui-Gon got out of the taxi, followed quickly by his apprentice. Having paid to the driver, the Master started to walk briskly inside the building. The Padawan was forced to almost run and still he managed to keep up with his long-legged stride only by force of habit. Obi-Wan knew they were making their way to Imata apartment to retrieve Kamon and Namira. Perhaps, Kamon would understand his bad feeling, or at least listen to him…

His train of thoughts was unceremoniously interrupted by a sudden appearance of Tarlott. For a few seconds Obi-Wan wondered how it was that he knew the man's name. Then he remembered… The memory brought dizziness, and he shook his head, trying to clear the confusion. Strangely enough, it helped. 

"How do you feel?" Qui-Gon asked Tarlott, slowing down, but not stopping.

"Um, thank you, Master Jinn, I'm fine – now, khm, yes." The man seemed nervous, clasping and unclasping his hands. Noticing what he was doing, Tarlott hid his hands behind his back. His large gray eyes regarded the Master almost fearfully. 

"I'm glad you are better, Mr. Tarlott," Qui-Gon replied.

Just then Tarlott noticed the Padawan, and his already large eyes widened even more. "Is he… back?" he asked, disbelief showing clearly in his voice.

"Yes, he's back. Now if you'll excuse us, we need to go." Politely but firmly Qui-Gon stepped around the stunned man to continue on his way. 

Entering the Imata apartment Obi-Wan immediately knew that neither Kamon, nor Namira were there, and his stomach lurched with foreboding. Qui-Gon was also, apparently, very much aware of their absence, but he went in anyway. Wondering what his Master had forgotten there, Obi-Wan followed. And then his eye caught what had obviously attracted Qui-Gon's attention – a small black box without any decorations, sitting on the massive empty table in the full view of those entering. Cautiously the Master approached the table, checking through the Force if the carton wasn't a bomb. 

With one deft move Qui-Gon opened the box. Obi-Wan came to stand beside him and peered curiously at the contents. 

The simple box didn't contain much: a holo-tape and a flimsy. Qui-Gon took the holo-tape out, turned it over in his hands, studying it, then tucked it into one of his pockets. After that he unfolded the flimsy. The note, written in a somewhat sharp and angled, definitely masculine handwriting, contained the address of Imata's country-house. In the lower left corner was another word added, written in a shaky handwriting: "hurry".

"Whoever left us this present apparently knows more than we do," Qui-Gon commented dryly, but Obi-Wan discerned a trace of anxiety in his voice. "Let's hurry up then."

******************

A room was basked in the artificial twilight, night lurking in the corners. Illness resided here, her silent dark companion – death – hovering on the periphery, waiting to claim the body, weakened by the wound. Harsh, laboured breathing was the only sound to break the thick silence. 

A door opened quietly, but even its soft sound alarmed the person on the bed. The barely visible in the dimness of the room bundle on the bed stirred. Two jaded eyes opened to regard the newcomer - a black silhouette against a slightly lighter rectangle of the door. 

"Is that you?" the woman on the bed croaked through dry lips, her eyes sparkling with suspicion and fever.

"Yes, it is I." The man moved inside, shutting the door tightly behind his back. "How do you feel?" Concern coloured his voice. He now stood above her.

"How do you think I feel?" There was no mistaking the sarcasm in her voice. She wished she could laugh, but even a hushed whisper brought stabs of agony into her side. "Did you put the box there?"

"Yes, I did. But how can you be sure they will find it?"

"They are - Jedi." Her speech became faltering and agitated as what little strength she had started to abandon her. "Their Force - or whatever - will lead - them - there."

"Do you think the Jedi will be able to put Arones into prison? Brimar is worried. If Arones finds out about his betrayal..."

"I think - they will... And - I hope - they'll get there - in time - to save - those two."

"You need to rest. I'll be going now." Taking the silence for a 'yes' Rahe Tarlott left Anisa to fight for her life. He had already done all he could to help her. And though he wished he could do much, much more it wasn't in his powers to change anything.

******************

Kamon didn't know how much time had passed since he had been thrown into the small dusty and completely dark room – it could have been minutes or it could have been hours. Nothing broke the silence here, leaving the young man cut off from all the life outside. Suddenly an echo of heavy footsteps burst into the silence, tearing it apart. The footsteps resounded ominously throughout the underground corridors of the manor, sending shivers down his spine.

The echo of the heavy, sure footsteps was soon joined by another footsteps, and then another. Four people approached the makeshift cell, and Kamon wondered briefly if they were afraid of him or merely over-cautious. Heavy metal key jingled in the old lock, rusty from a long disuse. The bar of light from the lamp one of the 'visitors' was holding blinded the Jedi momentarily, and he raised his hand to shelter his eyes. Next moment Kamon felt a cold riffle of a blaster firmly pressed against the nape of his neck.

"You, Jedi, are not to joke with," said the leader – Kamon had nicknamed him 'Black Snake' for his black outfit and cold stare. "Get up!" he ordered.

Kamon scrambled onto his legs, his every move deliberately slow and dignified as though they were on a reception of some kind or a political meeting. Straightening, the young man gave Snake a glare of his own and was rewarded with a scowl that twisted the man's already not too handsome features into a grotesque mask of evilness. With a nod from Snake another man pushed Kamon forward roughly and thus they started their journey to the upper rooms of the house.

Heavy wooden doors opened before the procession to reveal a large hall. This one was almost the precise copy of the first one Kamon had seen in this house, though this room was decorated in a blue gamma, colours varying from pale blue of the early morning to deep rich blue of falling night, here and there a splash of lavender and vinous induced variety into this realm of blues. In the middle like a queen of fairies Namira sat, clad in a startlingly bright canary-yellow cape. As Namira's eyes fell onto him, Kamon saw them brighten. She moved forward as though trying to reach him, but a hand on her shoulder all but threw her back into her chair. 

With a brutal shove Snake urged Kamon forward until the young Jedi was standing in the center of the room. Snake went out to stand before Kamon so that the girl could see them both. Calmly, with just a small sneer frozen in the corners of his mouth, Snake leveled his blaster at Kamon.

"So, miss Imata. Would you like to see what this pretty young head contains? I can arrange that," Snake said lightly, but his hard intense stare belied his tone. Kamon saw Namira's face contort in fear and something – something he was hard pressed to discern, yet… sympathy? Or could it possibly be something more?

The blaster muzzle, pointed at Kamon, didn't waver, and he was sure the man wouldn't hesitate to implement his threat. Two blue tearful eyes looked at him in silent cry, begged for him to be someplace else, knowing it was impossible. Ominous silence seized the moment. 

Abruptly the mute scene was broken by a dolorous ringing of broken glass, and a second later Kamon heard what sounded better than any music to his ears – the double snap-hiss of igniting lightsabers. 

Green and blue fire danced in the stale air of the room, deflecting blaster bolts with surprising accuracy, sending them back at those firing. Using the moment of confusion, Kamon spun on his heels and knocked the blaster out of the hand of the man behind him. Another blow caught the man at his jaw, sending him sprawling on the floor. 

The fight was over in a matter of minutes. The invaders completely subdued – some dead, some just unconscious, lying like black ugly dolls on the parquet floor. 

Next moment Kamon found himself sitting on the floor, holding Namira gently, whispering words of consolation to her as she cried on his shoulder. 

******************

Two weeks later the three Jedi boarded the ship that was to bring them back to Coruscant. Their mission on Allura was over. Arones had been sentenced to imprisonment due to testimonial evidences and the holo-tape Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had found in Imata's apartment. The holo-tape showed Arones threatening Tarnos Imata with death. 

Namira Imata became the head of the whole metal-importing market. With the responsibility that came on her out of the blue she was forced to work hard but she still managed to find time to see the Jedi off. 

She heard the ship start its engines, and something wet rolled down her cheek. There, in the ship, was the young man she – what? – loved? She wasn't certain. And she'll never know for sure. But she was confident that there was some feeling. The feeling that might have been something special, the feeling that might have been the true light of their lives. But it had no chance to develop, staying forever a sweet memory in a special little corner of the mind – for both of them.

But not only Namira watched the ship leave.

A pair of people stayed hidden in the shadowed corridor of the spaceport's building, watching the ship take off through the tall window. 

"Now I know why you own a madhouse, soulhunter," Anisa said jokingly, trying hard but failing to conceal her sadness. "And I know where all those rumors about you eating people came from."

"Um, well, you're right of course. But it saved your life, didn't it?" Tarlott countered, though he sounded more like a child vindicating himself.

"Yes, it did," she replied and stared wistfully into the ever-light sky where the ship has long since vanished.

*****************

About a year later.

Obi-Wan was sitting in one of the Temple gardens, knees tucked under his chin. Technically he was aware that it was a dream, but unlike any other time this knowledge didn't push him out of the dreamland to the state of consciousness. He was waiting for something or someone to come. And the dream didn't fail to live up to his expectations. 

"Hello there," a mellow yet ringing voice spoke behind him. A second later the familiar visage of Obi-Wan's copy lowered himself onto the cropped emerald grass. The man was still looking older than Obi-Wan, and he was still dressed in snow-white loose shirt and pants. 

"Hello, Loiso," Obi-Wan said, surprising even himself with the near-indifference his voice held. He was glad, after all, to see the man.

"Now, why are we so cranky?" Loiso asked, smiling.

"They don't believe me. Not a single one of them! I thought at least Master Yoda would believe me, but when I told him about that place – nowhere – and meeting you he only said: 'Your own imagination it was. Forget it you must. Need to dwell on it you need not.' But I know it wasn't just my fancy, was it?"

"No, it was not. But I tell you this: they have never experienced anything like this and they will not understand it – ever. You have touched something they know nothing about, and it scares them. It is in all sentient beings' nature to be afraid of unknown. Take my advice and keep it to yourself."

Obi-Wan wasn't comfortable with the idea but he suddenly realized with stunning clarity that there was simply no other way. He'll have to accept it and cope with it.

"And what about you? Has the man you were talking about freed you or…"

"Yes, the funny man called Max has freed me. You don't need to worry about me anymore."

"I haven't…"

"I know you  _have_  been worrying. You even tried to get back there."

Obi-Wan suddenly found the ground a fascinating sight.

"There's no need to be ashamed neither of your noble attempts, nor of your fear to make them, nor of your failure. You belong here and here you will stay. And you better not try again or you might succeed…"

"There isn't anything I can hide from you, is there?"

"Loiso laughed. "You're too young, my friend, to have secrets from me." He got up and stood towering over Obi-Wan. "Well, thank you for the company, especially there… I must go now."

"Thank you, too." Obi-Wan didn't even make an attempt to rise.

Loiso gave him a wink and a wide grin. Then he abruptly vanished, leaving a slightly wavering grin to hang in thin air a bit longer.

Despite himself Obi-Wan smiled, looking at the 'aerial' grin.

"A little visual effect to lighten you up." Loiso's voice sounded seemingly from every direction. "Do you like it?"

Still smiling Obi-Wan woke up. "Yes, Loiso, I do," he said aloud, absolutely sure that the man could hear him wherever he was.

The End.


End file.
